Thugs and Kisses
by Curlycurlz
Summary: Benvolio finds himself trapped in a forbidden love, trying to honor his dead cousin by surviving it. Based off the 1996 movie. Complete, finally!
1. Thinking leads to Grieving

The door of the penthouse apartment swung open, and Benvolio stumbled over the threshold. He was red-faced and sweaty from walking up sixty flights of stairs with his suitcase; an elevator ride would have afforded him too much time to think. For the past month, thinking only led to mourning, and Benvolio couldn't possibly take any more of that.

Leaving his suitcase at the front door, Benvolio began his customary beginning-of-year walk through the apartment. Nothing had changed from last year. The walls were covered with anything and everything: posters of movies, bands, swimsuit models; album covers; drinking game scoreboards; photographs of every shape and form. The last two years had allowed them to almost entirely paper the Rec room and their own rooms, which showcased items from slightly private to downright embarrassing. The cupboards were stocked with all types of junk food left over from last year, while the refrigerator was depressingly empty. The liquor cabinet had been so well contributed to in their first year by Benvolio's father and uncle that there was still plenty left over. Benvolio grabbed the nearest bottles and cracked it open. A long swig prepared him for the next sight he would encounter on his tour.

Still clutching the neck of the bottle, Benvolio inched out of the kitchen, towards the pool/air hockey/ping pong table. On the wall next to the billiards rack was the grimmest monument in the whole apartment: a blown-up, matted photograph. In front of a stone ivy-covered building stood three young men, each in their first year at Princeton University. One was athletic-looking with cropped strawberry-blond hair, sporting a polo shirt and a huge grin. The one next to him was black, also dressed demurely, with his impish nature betrayed in his thousand-watt grin, glittering eyes and short dreadlocks. But the last man was the one that made Benvolio's heart shrivel. This young man carried a mop of light-brown hair, sharp features and a rumpled oxford shirt. He stared at the camera with a wistful, barely half-smile on his face, as though he really were looking ahead to his short future. Benvolio wondered what he would have said if someone had told him that two years later, two out of the three people photographed would be dead. He wasn't even sure if he fully believed it now.

Mercutio's room was not strange at all to Benvolio. After all, this was where the trio would crash after every one of their parties had finished, muttering drunken you-guys-are-my-best-friends-ever's and describing all their night's exploits in disjointed, highly detailed narratives. The place was normally polluted with Mercutio's unwashed basketball gear, but in the state that they were normally in, the three friends could never detect anything out of the ordinary—that is, until the day after.

Mercutio had been at Princeton only because of his basketball scholarship. He cared next to nothing about his classes, and when asked what his major was, he would always reply with "Something to do with business, I don't even know." The Profs were willing to turn the blindest of eyes when it came to handing in assignments late, or not at all. As long as Mercutio could slam-dunk Princeton to the championships every year, his ticket through post-secondary education was all-inclusive and free. _Such a waste,_ thought Benvolio, a familiar feeling of overall resentment clouding his soul.

Romeo's room, on the other hand, was practically uncharted territory for Benvolio. Not only was it the furthest back from the main hallway, but each time Benvolio walked in, Romeo would practically glare at him until he left. He could see why: the walls were covered with Romeo's diary pages. Romeo had fancied himself something of a philosophizer, jotting down his deepest thoughts in fancy prose, or sometimes rhymes when he was emotional enough. Choking back tears, Benvolio approached a well-worn sheet and read its contents. "Since I cannot prove a lover, shall I be determined to prove a villain?" Benvolio couldn't help it; his body began to wrack with sobs. Romeo had proved a spectacular lover, right to the end.

Romeo was at Princeton purely because of Mercutio, Benvolio, and Ted Montague. He was a genius, no doubt about that, but he cared nothing about his post-prep school career. It didn't take much convincing from Benvolio and Mercutio for Romeo to agree to join them at Princeton, and it was a small matter for his father to tip the board of directors in his favor with a few too many thousand dollars paid towards Romeo's tuition. Romeo's marks were consistently neck-in-neck with Benvolio's, even though he did practically no work and Benvolio studied like a fiend. _Such a Goddamn waste_!

Another swig of the bottle helped to muffle his emotions, and Benvolio slumped onto the couch in front of the flat screen TV. The next day was the first day of classes, and Benvolio needed to focus. What was he thinking, agreeing to live in the apartment alone the whole year? He owed so much to his uncle…Ted had insisted on paying Benvolio's entire tuition in memory of Romeo. Why did it still hurt so much? Benvolio laid back and closed his eyes. It had been more than a month since the whole horrible, messy incident had taken place. Predictably, Benvolio cried himself to sleep.

Walking through campus the next day was so strange, almost a surreal experience. Everywhere, girls shrieked and engulfed guys and girls alike in their special brand of bony hugs. Guys shook hands, shoved their shoulders together and patted each other's back in a move now so natural that it only looked stupid to others. Benvolio avoided the main hallways; he had had many friendly acquaintances, but the only friends he really wanted to meet up with were not there. Still, every so often Benvolio would find himself being waved at by someone whom he barely recognized. He never waved back.

At least nobody knew about what had happened back in Verona Beach. Practically nobody at Princeton was from Florida, and the whole story had not been published in any national newspapers. Excepting that article in Time that had run a story on the Montagues last year with Benvolio and his Saber 9mm gracing the cover, of course. He reminded himself to tear up the school library's copy.

Benvolio finally arrived at the door to the lecture hall, where his first class would take place. On an impulse, he looked behind him, and nearly vomited. For there, standing blatantly in the middle of the food court, was some little first-year punk, throwing furtive glances at Benvolio and whispering very fast to his little friends. Quickly, Benvolio darted across the court, grabbed the kid and shunted him into the bathroom. The kid started to protest, but Benvolio shoved him against the wall.

"Shut up," he whispered. "Listen to me. How much do you know?"

"Know about what?" The kid was playing innocent.

"Do not make me hit you," said Benvolio. "You were flapping your lips off to those people about me and my family. Do you deny it?"

"I…" the kid swallowed hard, realization dawning on him that a Montague was actually threatening him. People who were against the Montagues tended to die; he knew that much. "I might have mentioned something."

Benvolio shut his eyes and sighed. "You idiot. If you know so much about me, how could you forget about the fights I got into during the summer?"

Fear clouded the kid's face. "You wouldn't."

"If only to keep you quiet." Benvolio shoved the kid towards the door. When he knew he was alone, he dropped onto the couch and laid his head in his hands.

Of course he would never shoot the guy. He hated himself for suggesting it; what had become of his oath to leave Verona Beach and all of its crap behind? But he wasn't sure if he could go back out there; how many people knew by know? How long would it take to spread throughout the school?

Looking firmly at his feet, he shuffled to class.

The rest of the week was no different. Benvolio attended every class and attempted to take in what was being said, but he could only stare blankly at the Prof. He tried to eat on campus at one point, but gave up the ghost and resorted to stocking up on frozen TV-dinners. He had a feeling that Romeo and Mercutio would probably be angry at him for wasting time like that, but he simply could not muster the energy to get involved in anything outside the building.

He was walking back from class one day, his messenger bag undone and slung over his shoulder. As usual, he walked with his head down, thinking only of the liquor bottle and couch that waited for him back at the apartment. An all-too-solid object right in his path halted him in his journey. A couple of books that weren't his hit the ground, the papers sandwiched between their pages fluttering in all directions. From the angle he was looking, Benvolio could see a pair of daintily beaded flats, dancing to avoid stepping on the papers.

"_Idiota_!" yelled a girl's voice; it was then that Benvolio looked up. A pair of despairing dark-brown eyes met his, staring out of an olive-skinned face framed by black wavy hair. "_Dios_…I'm sorry! Uh…"

Frantically, the girl crouched down and shoved the papers into a messy stack. All together, it looked like almost a hundred pages. Concerned, Benvolio dropped to the ground as well and stacked the books. He was about to hand them to the girl, but stopped when he saw how full the girl's arms were.

"I promised myself that I'd organize myself before something like this happened…" She sifted through the stack, then gave up and held out her hands for the books. Trying to smile, she attempted an explanation. "They were all organized by page, you see. I'm really sorry for getting in your way."

Suddenly, Benvolio forgot all about the couch and the bottle of Jack Daniels. He didn't want the girl to walk away. "Hey, um, I could help you reorganize them if you want. I mean, I'm not going anywhere…"

"No, no, there's no need for you to, it was my fault."

Benvolio laid a hand on her arm. "No, I want to help."

The girl hesitated for a second, and then shrugged. "Okay…would you like to…sit down?" She glanced around furtively before settling herself onto a bench. Benvolio sat beside her and handed her a book. He looked at her, wondering if she had heard of him, or knew his face. She didn't appear to.

Could he risk introducing himself? He supposed it would be the polite thing to do.

"By the way, I'm Ben…" Without knowing exactly why, he stopped himself from telling her his real name. "Ben Magli."

The girl smiled at him. "Maria Montoya."

In a split second, Benvolio decided something. His depression was over; he was going to honor the memory of Romeo, the romantic, and Mercutio, the partier, in a way that both of them would probably prefer.

"Great too meet you," he said, handing her another textbook. "Can I buy you a coffee or something? Just to make it up to you…"

Maria cocked her head to the side, considering the offer. Finally, she looked back at Benvolio and smiled. "Ok," she said. "I'd like that".

They chose a pair of plush armchairs in the Starbucks down the street and settled in. Maria daintily sipped a black espresso, while Benvolio gulped a heavily milk-and-sugared coffee. As time passed, the silence went from comfortable to strained. It was Maria who broke it.

"Thanks again for the coffee," she said, patting her mouth dry. "It tastes just like back home."

"Really? Where is that?"

Maria set her cup back down on the table. "Spain," she replied. "My family runs an international school for boys…a very expensive boarding school. It was pretty ironic that I was born." She and Benvolio laughed.

"So really, you could have your pick of any guy from anywhere in the world?" Benvolio tried to make his question sound innocent, but it was so blatantly spoken that he regretted it the second it was out of his mouth. Maria looked down into her coffee thoughtfully.

"I could try…the minute any guy realizes I'm the headmaster's daughter they back right off. And the only guy I didn't tell…well, that worked out nicely." Maria's voice positively burned with sarcasm.

Benvolio peered over the rim of his coffee. "What happened?"

Maria seemed startled to see that Benvolio was still sitting there. "Oh, it's nothing…I mean, it wasn't nothing, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear about it."

"But now you've gone and got me interested!" Benvolio put on a puppy-dog face. "Please?"

Maria rolled her eyes and laughed. "Ok, but you can't think I'm an idiot or anything."

Benvolio blinked. "Never."

"Ok." Maria took a deep breath before beginning. "Well, there was a new guy at the school, and I thought he was like everyone else, but then hestarted flirting with me—I work around the school sometimes—and I decided not to tell him my real last name. So we started going out. After graduation, my father found the two of us kissing and pretty much blew a gasket. It turned out that his mother was my father's first cousin."

Benvolio's jaw dropped to the floor; Maria laughed ruefully. "Yeah, I know. He was practically catapulted home; my parents would barely let me out of the house for a month."

"Wait…I don't understand. He was your, what, third cousin? How did you not know him?"

Maria shrugged. "My parents never told me that he was coming. Actually, they never even told me I had family in America. From some of the things he and my parents said, I got the feeling that he was in a mob family, and they didn't want me to get mixed up in it. I think my father was providing his father with loans or weapons or something messy like that."

_ A mob family?_ Benvolio felt like kicking himself. Here he was, promising himself that he would leave that life behind, and here he was, falling for the only other girl on campus that had American mob connections! Christ, couldn't anyone ever cut him a break?

Maria looked at him strangely. "Um, Ben? Are you ok?"

Benvolio realized he was gawking at her, and closed his mouth. "Oh, yeah, I was just really into your story. It's…really intense." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "So what are you doing at Princeton?"

"International university program. My parents are a bit overprotective; I managed to get them to agree after a while. And it was a while, let me tell you."

After a few more minutes of idle chatter, Maria glanced at her watch and jumped up. "I'm so sorry, Ben, I have a class in, like, ten minutes! I have to go!" She hurriedly shoved her things into her bag. Benvolio stood up and helped her get herself together. Then, she stopped, and looked into his eyes. "I really enjoyed this."

Benvolio smiled. "Me too. Would you like me to run into you again sometime? Maria laughed. "How about we plan it out next time?" She leaned it to give him a gentle peck on each cheek, and Benvolio felt something crinkly being pressed into his hand. "I'll see you. And thanks…again."

Against his will, Benvolio followed her shapely pencil-skirt-clad bum all the way out the door. Maria glanced back once, then pushed the door open and walked briskly down the street. It was only then that Benvolio remembered that she had given him something. Opening his hand, he stared at a series of numbers scribbled onto a napkin. A huge, goofy grin spread over his face. He had her phone number.


	2. That Puritan Thing

Disclaimer: I WISH.

* * *

"She's just so gorgeous, you know? I'm really trying, but I can't think of anyone who is as good-looking as her. Not even close! She's just so…firecracker. She's all tiny and delicate-looking, but she's smart and funny and sexy and all impish. And that accent of hers? Man, don't even get me started on that!"

Benvolio wasn't event sure who he was talking to. He was addressing the photo of himself, Romeo, and Mercutio, certainly, but it would be foolish to start talking to pictures. He supposed he was talking to himself more than anything. It didn't matter; whomever he was speaking with was perfectly approving of everything he was saying, and that was all that mattered.

It had been one month after ramming into Maria, and Benvolio was over the moon. They had been on exactly twenty dates: movies, varsity games, dance clubs. Every minute had been sheer bliss, but last night had definitely been the tops.

They had just left Piquanté, a salsa bar in the city. Maria looked like a goddess; her low-cut frilly red tank perfectly accented the short black flirty skirt, and a red rose tucked behind her ear added even more spiciness to her curled black locks. They had stopped in front of her apartment, and Benvolio had leaned in to kiss her, when Maria invited him up for coffee, since her roommates were out for the night. The espresso she made was strong, but it left Benvolio feeling euphoric, as though he were invincible. Maria had had a similar look in her eye when they met in the middle of the kitchen, kissing passionately. Benvolio could feel himself gearing up for a home run. It seemed like Maria was too, until she regretfully pulled herself away and asked him to wait. She had said that she was sure she wanted to take it there with "Ben", but she wanted a more opportune moment. Benvolio was surprised with himself; instead of being disappointed, as he would normally have been, he spent the rest of the evening letting her take the lead. He would rather have died then make her feel uncomfortable. He had ended up spending the night, but he had to leave earlier then he would have liked to make a class. It was the first day he felt he had actually learned anything about World Economics.

"It's just so much different from any of the relationships we've ever gone for, you know? Mercutio, for you it was always screw first, talk later. And Romeo…well, we all know your preferences." Benvolio paused for a minute and swallowed away the lump in his throat. "I don't know, I guess I've always been a mixture between the two of you. But seriously, taking it slow is just so much…sexier, I guess. Because, really, when you're building toward a goal and you finally get it, it's so rewarding, isn't it?"

Benvolio sighed, and gave it up. Although it gave him some small comfort to "talk" to his cousin and best friend, it wasn't real. He needed to exercise some self-control; otherwise he would never get on with his life.

Reaching over, he picked up the phone and checked his messages. Last year, there had been nearly twenty messages every day. The trio had had party invites coming out of their ears. Now, the only messages Benvolio expected were cute little jokes from Maria (they had gotten into the practice of calling each other's phones during each other's classes) and the occasional chirpy salutation from his mother. Today, however, a loud Italian-accented voice boomed out of the earpiece." Ciao, Benvolio, my son! I was hoping to catch you in person! I haven't talked to you in ages! I hope school's going well!

"I was just calling about Thanksgiving! We're having a full-family celebration at your Uncle Ted's house! I hope you can come home for couple days before! And, dio mio, bring a girl along! Everybody over here misses you! I love you, son! Your mother says she loves you too! She wants to know if you need any food! Call back when you get a chance! Ciao!"

Benvolio held the phone an inch away from his ear through the whole exchange, imagining the sweeping gestures his father had no doubt been making even as he talked to a machine. He knew exactly whom he wanted to bring. The problem was that he hadn't told her anything about his family.

Would she expect to see something as formidable as the Montague mansion? Caroline Montague's nouveau-riche tacky style of decorating? The armed guards and security cameras that graced every looming entrance to the house?

Not to mention his name. To Maria, he was Ben Magli. To everyone else in Verona Beach, he was Benvolio Montague. It wasn't so much of a problem for Benvolio, who had all but shunned his family after the events of the summer. Quite a bit more of a problem for his family, who wore the Montague name like a gold medal. There was no possible way to keep Maria from hearing it, and since she was so sharp, she would no doubt figure out that he had been lying to her. And when that happened—

Benvolio would not take her home; it was as simple as that. Or was it? When she learned he was going home and not taking her, wouldn't she be pissed off? Maybe not; after all, it was Maria, and she was sensible. But Maria loved affection. Besides, every girl would get ticked off if they had been with a guy for a month and a half, as he and Maria would be by Thanksgiving, and the guy left her to sit around Princeton while everyone was off with their families.

And then there were her handy mob connections. The Montague family had eyes and ears everywhere; it was frightening how much information they had access to. Ted's enthusiasm had barely balked, even after his business had resulted in the death of his only son. If the Montoyas were involved in mob dealings, even in the tiniest way, even from overseas, Ted would know. If her family were connected with the right crowd, his family would be practically forcing a marriage, scaring Maria away for good. But if her family was against the Montagues, that was it. Benvolio would never see her again.

Maybe it was time to come out with the truth. Then, at least, it would be Maria making the decision. She wouldn't be heading for a surprise, and Benvolio wouldn't need to feel guilty about leaving her during Thanksgiving if she refused to come. It would be one hundred percent fair to Maria…but it would tear Benvolio apart if she broke up with him. Then, he would be alone with his grief once again.

He could skip Thanksgiving. He would tell his family that he had a lot of reading to do, and even though he missed them ever so much, it was necessary that he stay at school and work instead. He would call Ted and Caroline himself and sit through his uncle's intimidation tactics and his bereaved aunt's sheer understanding of the fact that university marks were so important, and how it was up to Benvolio now to take over the business when Ted and Giorgio and Julio were gone because of Romeo's death, so the whole family's future depended on Benvolio's education in business. He was willing to do it, even though it would hurt him to lie to his family, because he didn't want to lose what he had with Maria.

He was about to dial the last number when he slammed the phone down so hard the table it sat on shook. He couldn't handle lying to even more people. How long could he keep up the charade? It wouldn't have mattered if he saw Maria as a quick fling, but a quick fling was the last thing he wanted.

Trying to think, Benvolio dropped his head onto his hands and massaged his temples. The first thing he saw when he looked up was the picture of the three original tenants. Mercutio seemed to be laughing, mocking his emotions, as he had been so quick to do when he was alive. Romeo stared at Benvolio, sympathizing with his dilemma, and suddenly Benvolio understood. For months, he had been tortured by not knowing what had driven Romeo to suicide. He had just met Juliet three days prior; how could two people fall in love that quickly? But now Benvolio knew that it wasn't just love for Juliet. The pressures from his family had been weighing down on him harder than on Benvolio as Romeo had been the only son of the oldest brother, and the grief over the loss of his best friend had been a mere one day old, rather than three months. The worst of it was that Romeo had tried to hide it. Granted, at that time, tensions between the two families had been at an all-time high, so the reactions from the families would have been tumultuous. But though that might have been true, Benvolio could think of a lot of catastrophes that would not have occurred, had Romeo been forthcoming with the truth.

"Don't worry about it, cousin. I won't make your mistakes."

He picked up the phone once more and let his fingers dance across the keypad in a route now very familiar to him. Then he sat and waited, his resolve dwindling until he heard a familiar lightly accented voice on the other end.

"Holà!"

"Hey, Mare, it's Ben!"

"You have reached Maria, Sarah, and Jess. We're sorry that we are unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave your name, number and a short message after the beep and we'll get right back to you."

"Oh, hey, Maria, it's…"

"Ben!"

"Oh…hey, I didn't think you could screen!"

Maria laughed. "We just got a new phone. We're pretty obsessed with screening now."

"Sounds like fun. Hey, what do you think about…?"

"Oh my gosh, Ben! There's something so weird that I need to tell you!"

Benvolio cocked an eyebrow; this must be big. Maria never interrupted someone while they were talking.

"What is it?"

"There's a guy who goes to Princeton. Total gangster! His family is up to their eyeballs in dirty money!"

Benvolio felt like his stomach would drop out of his body. Forcing himself to breathe, he replied. "Re…really."

"Yes! And during the summer, I think he killed a guy! Or got shot. Or something along those lines; I'm not sure. But isn't that weird?"

"Astonishingly. Do you…know his name?"

"Oh, I don't know. Wait a sec…No; Sarah and Jess don't know either. But how cool is that? I wonder if my father knows him…"

"Maria…"

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Ben! I interrupted you! What was it you wanted to say?"

Benvolio cleared his throat. "Well, I was hoping to invite you over to my apartment. I don't think you've actually been up here before."

"You're right, I haven't! What have you got, skeletons in the closet?"

Benvolio's eyes widened.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

A couple of seconds passed before Maria answered. "It was a joke, Ben. What's with you today? You seem really out of it."

"Oh…" Benvolio cast around for an excuse. "School stuff, you know."

Maria sighed with relief. "Do I ever. So do I take the bus to your place? I don't even know the address."

"No, no, I'll pick you up for dinner. How does 6:00 sound to you?"

"It sounds good. This is really sweet of you, Ben."

When Benvolio finally hung up the phone, his hands were shaking. He supposed he had been fooling himself; of course his story would have to be spread to everyone before it was dismissed as idle rumors. He had just hoped against hope that Maria would remain deaf to it. At least she seemed to like the idea of a young gangster. Or did she just like the fact that this gangster wasn't anywhere near her?

She would be here tonight; that was when Benvolio would make the decision. In the meantime, he had to get to work.

All the pictures had to come down. They weren't very distinguished and communicated an image that Benvolio had tried to stay away from, but it was more than that. When Benvolio finally told Maria, he wanted it to be self-motivated instead of an answer to questions Maria would ask. If she were to ask him who the other two guys in the pictures were, or why the license plate on the Camaro they were always in was MONTAGUE, Benvolio didn't trust himself to tell the whole truth. As it was, she would already be flabbergasted by the size of the apartment he lived in all by himself.

He lovingly pried each of the photographs away from the wall, scrunching the masking tape circlet and chucking it down the trash as he filed the photos away. As he worked, the personality seemed to fade from the apartment, leaving behind the residence of a stranger. Yet for some reason, Benvolio felt more comfortable in this barer apartment then he had felt all year in the cluttered one. Maybe he was a stranger to himself now.

Suddenly, Benvolio was faced with the most conspicuous picture in the entire apartment: the triple-portrait. It didn't feel right to take that one down. He felt like hiding it would be like burying his two best friends for good, and he didn't want to take responsibility for that job. He had no idea how long he stared at it for, but before he knew it, it was5:30 and he had to go pick up Maria. Frantically, he took down the picture and tossed it onto Mercutio's bed. Satisfied with the knowledge that he couldn't be accused of hiding it, Benvolio donned his coat and left the apartment.

"Oh my god, Ben!" Maria cried as soon as she walked into the apartment. "I had no idea!"

"I know, it's…" Benvolio cast around for the right word. "It's pretty flashy."

"It's fabulous!" As she took in the place, Maria's eyes shone. It was considerably more sophisticated-looking now that the photos were off the wall, and the decorations that were left behind looked classier by themselves. "Why haven't I ever been here before?"

Benvolio shrugged. "I guess we've never really been in the neighborhood."

"Oh, please," she giggled. "So, you have this place all to yourself? Don't you ever feel like, I don't know, a pea rattling around in it? It's gigantic!"

Benvolio looked away, not trusting his face to stay neutral. "Yeah, my family owns this building. Since I'm sort of in line to take over the business, they're all really involved in my education. So, I got the penthouse. My dad said he'd take it away if my marks slipped."

"Ok, so you're not such a spoiled brat then." Maria winked; it was clear that she had been joking. "I'm the same. If my marks slip, I'm going home. We're both doing pretty well, it seems."

"It does seem that way." Benvolio's stomach was in knots. How could he tell her? She was so happy tonight. All he wanted to do was hold her; telling her would drive her away. "Can I get you a drink? I have anything…alcoholic, non-alcoholic, take your pick." As he spoke, he mixed himself an efficient martini, barely needing to see what he was doing.

"Cranberry juice for me."

Benvolio looked at her warily. "You sure you don't want to mix it with something?" This whole thing might go over better if she were a little tipsy.

"No, I'm good for tonight."

They ordered in Thai for dinner and sat quietly for a bit, savoring the spicy noodles. Several times, Benvolio was about to tell her, but lost his nerve at the last second. But even though his guilt was killing him, he found himself lost in the pleasure of Maria's company. They chatted about everything and nothing, never running out of things to say. They both smiled until their cheeks hurt. Finally, over a homemade banana split,

Benvolio took one last stab at the truth.

"So, Maria, Thanksgiving's in two weeks."

"Thanksgiving…oh, right, that American puritan thing. Is it a big deal in your family?"

"This year, it is." Benvolio started fiddling with his napkin. "This year, there's a full-family celebration at my uncle's house. It'll be his family, my family, and my other uncle and my two dumb-ass cousins. And my old Nonna."

"Sounds like a party," she tittered.

"Quite the wild party," he agreed. "At least, it would be if you came."

Maria looked up from the ice cream bowl. "Come again?"

Benvolio took a deep breath. "Maria, would you like to come with me to my family's thanksgiving party?"

Maria's face shone with happiness for about half a second before she got it under control. "Ben, are you sure? I mean, you don't think it's moving too fast or anything? I really wouldn't want to impose…"

Benvolio reached across the table and grabbed Maria's hand. "No, Maria. It's perfect. I want you to meet my family. You'd love it…I live in Florida. And my family would love you."

Maria rubbed the outside of Benvolio's hand with her thumb. "Really?"

Benvolio smiled. "Really."

Suddenly, they were both standing beside the table, their arms intertwined, their lips frantically searching for purchase. Benvolio began to move, guiding Maria. He didn't even know where he was going until the back of his calves hit his mattress and he fell over backwards onto it, Maria on top of him. Remembering the night before, he twisted his headway and caught Maria's eye.

"Are you ready for this?"

Maria responded by grabbing the back of Benvolio's neck and giving him the longest, most passionate kiss they had had yet. "Take it away."

"Zia Caroline? Hey, this is Benvolio."

"Oh, Benvolio, it's so good to hear from you finally! Now, you must tell me all about New Jersey."

"Oh, you know: same old. Jersey never really changes."

Caroline laughed, and then sighed wistfully. "My Romeo loved the semesters at Princeton. You boys were such company to him. He was very popular with the students, was he not? Oh, my brilliant little boy…"

Benvolio rolled his eyes. The intention of the phone call was not to reminisce about the many good qualities of Romeo. Caroline always seemed to feel she was alone in her grief, and Benvolio was frankly bored of her unexpected sobbing. Still, he had to respect his aunt—after all; Ted was paying for Benvolio's university.

Caroline took a raggedy breath in, and continued in a pained tone of voice. "So, dear, what were you calling about?"

Benvolio slapped a smile on his face as he tried to sound perky for his aunt. "Actually, I was calling about Thanksgiving. I just wanted you to know that I'll be there."

"Oh, I'm so glad! The whole family, together!"

"Yeah…" Benvolio cracked the door to his room open a few inches and felt his heart swell at the sight of Maria sleeping like an angel in his bed.

"Zia, I was wondering if I could possibly bring someone with me."

"Who, darling?" Caroline's voice instantly perked up at the prospect of having another person to entertain.

"Actually, my girlfriend Maria. I would love the family to meet her."

Again, Caroline sighed. "Young love. Just remember, take it slowly. If the relationship seems like it will never work, don't worry too much about it. If you're worried what people will think, do not sneak around! And if you think you won't be able to live without her, just try it; you may be able to. Do not, under any circumstances, do anything to hurt yourself."

"Ok, Zia, I'll remember."

"You had better. If only my Romeo had told me what was going on…but I'm boring you. You go study, or whatever it is you have to do, ok, sweetie?"

"Ok, Zia. I love you. Good-bye."

When Benvolio looked up, Maria was standing in front of him, wrapped in his terry robe and smiling at him with sleepy eyes. "'I love you?' Aw, that's sweet."

Benvolio grinned and leaned in to kiss her behind the ear. "How did you sleep?"

"Better then I have all year," she murmured. "How about some breakfast?"

"Breakfast, eh?" Benvolio glanced towards the freezer; all the food he had was packed into boxes in there. "Do I have any breakfast?"

Maria cocked an eyebrow. "Unprepared, are we?" She laughed. "Doesn't matter—we're going out for breakfast anyways."

* * *

Here, I would like to acknowledge my faithful reviewers. Um...let's think...damn I can't actually recall any right now! I wonder why that is? Oh yeah, now I remember: the reason I can't think of any is because I DON'T HAVE ANY! Come on people! I'm trying to live up to Billy S here! The least you could do is tell me if I'm doing it right!


	3. Harsh Discovery

Though the first-class seat was spacious, Benvolio squirmed uncomfortably. His movements were jerky, and his T-shirt stuck to his sweaty back. He still had not found an opportunity to tell Maria the whole truth. She had been working all hours of the day and night to finish a term research project, and Benvolio took advantage of her distraction as an excuse to save his story for later. He had meant to tell her on the plane, he really did, but as soon as Maria had settled into her seat she was out like alight. She had barely moved for two hours, and Benvolio couldn't bring himself to wake her. He had tried to relax and kept up the pretense of paying attention to the in-flight movie for about five minutes before giving up. Scenarios of how Maria would react, each worse then the last one, chased each other through his head. She was so blissfully unaware, and he loved her so much.

Before anything else could happen, Benvolio felt his ears begin to twinge, and the captain announced that they would land at Miami airport shortly. Maria stirred, but didn't wake; she muttered some gibberish, and all that Benvolio could comprehend was "Thesis" and "Tequila". Soon, the wheels were rattling along the asphalt, and Maria's head popped up, a confused expression clouding her face. A cheer erupted from the disgruntled travelers in economy class, and the more rebellious passengers began to undo their seatbelts while the plane was still moving. Benvolio felt like he was going to vomit, but it wasn't due to motion sickness. There was no more time for him to tell Maria. He was in way too deep.

Before anyone could think, the flight attendants were shunting passengers out of the plane. Maria was still in a daze from her interrupted nap, and Benvolio's ears were throbbing from the changed pressure. They made it through arrivals with no problem, and their suitcases were the first to be spit out onto the carousel. Miami airport was ten times louder than Benvolio had remembered, and neither of them could understand each other without screaming. Finally, they reached the lobby, and Benvolio scanned the crowd. He didn't know who would be picking them up. Eventually, his gaze landed on one sign, black marker on cardboard:

BEN KENOBI AND CHICK

Sampson and Gregory had created that stupid nickname for him back in the 80's, when they had finally discovered the first three letters of Benvolio's name concurred with that of the Star Wars character. "Chick" no doubt referred to Maria. Benvolio wasn't happy about their choice of words, and there was no doubt that Maria would be ticked.

Benvolio cocked his head in the direction of the sign. "Over there." Maria nodded, and they began to drag their suitcases. As they approached, Benvolio saw Sampson, and noticed that he had gone from bubblegum pink hair to jet-black. Instead of Gregory with him, as was usually the case, Benvolio's sister Alessia was sitting on a sweater on the floor. She brightened as soon as she saw Benvolio, and got up to run over to him.

"Hey, dude!" she yelled, laughing as Benvolio grinned and swung her around once. "What's with all the preppy?" Alessia fingered the tiny Lacoste alligator on his crew-neck sweater. Benvolio laid his hand on top of Alessia's brown curls and mussed them up.

"NJ's just a little bit colder then Verona, sis."

"True that." Alessia turned her attention to Maria, who was looking supremely uncomfortable at the moment. Smacking Benvolio in the ear, she held out her hand to Maria. "I'm Alessia. I apologize for my brother's nonsocial skills."

Benvolio finally clued in. "Alessia, this is Maria, my girlfriend. Maria, Alessia, my baby sister. Sorry, I had a brain fart for a second."

Still holding the sign, Sampson started to guffaw. "Brain fart! That's awesome, man!"

Benvolio rolled his eyes. "And that's my cousin Sampson. He's my Uncle Julio's son."

Finally, Maria smiled. "One of your dumb-ass cousins?"

Alessia burst out laughing. "That's Sam and Greg in a nutshell for you!" Alessia and Maria immediately began to chatter, so Benvolio walked over to Sampson. "Hey man, how's it going? You know what, I'm not sure I want to know."

"Dude, it is major drama in VB."

"Well, I could have guessed that." Benvolio grabbed the sign and broke it over his knee. "'Ben Kenobi and chick'? What the hell are you trying todo, chase her home?"

"Hey, I made that myself," Sampson protested as he grabbed the halves from Benvolio. "And as for chasing her home…" He trailed off, and Benvolio saw his eyes glaze over as Sampson peered at Maria.

"Sampson…" He smacked Sampson across the side of his head. Sampson blinked and looked away from Maria. "Can you please try to be normal this weekend?"

Sampson smirked. "Don't know what you're talking about, babe. Ladies…" The girls looked over at him, laughing. "The love truck won't wait."

Alessia convulsed into another fresh burst of laughter. "Love truck? The only girl you've ever had in there was me!"

Sampson strutted back to where they were standing. "Maria, may I take your bag?"

Maria stifled a giggle. "Sure, Sam. Thank you."

As he flounced through the terminal dragging Maria's pink Burberry suitcase, the other three lagged behind to talk.

"So, Maria, where are you from?"

"My family lives in Barcelona."

Alessia raised her eyebrows. "Spain, eh? I've been hearing a lot about Spain these days. What does your family do in Barcelona?"

Benvolio blinked at the odd question.

Maria seemed confused too. "My father runs an international school for boys."

Alessia inhaled sharply and coughed. "Which school is that?" Benvolio and Maria both looked at her. "It's just that I think I know someone who goes to school in Spain." This sounded exceedingly lame, and Alessia knew it. She slapped a toothy grin on her face to cover it up.

Maria hesitated for a second. "The Barcelona International Martial Institute for Boys. Sound familiar?"

"Maybe." Alessia shrugged. "Hey, you want to hear something funny? Go ask Sampson over there about his theories on evolution."

"Really?" Alessia nodded. "Ok…" With a backwards glance at Benvolio, Maria trotted to catch up with Sampson.

"I love her, Benvolio. I really do." Alessia's smile started to look frozen in place.

Benvolio glanced at her. "Do you really? Because, quite frankly, that whole thing there was really weird. What on earth was it about? Do you realize you scared the crap out of her? I mean, this is the first time you guys have met!"

"Whoa, whoa, don't blow a gasket. I was just curious."

"Yeah, well, if you were a cat you'd be six feet under."

"Ha-ha. Can I just ask one more question?"

"Sure, to me. Leave her alone for a bit."

Maria's laughter rang through the terminal at Sampson's naughty joke.

"What's Maria's last name?"

"Montoya. Ow!" As soon as he had said the name, Alessia had pinched him hard in the back. "What was that for?"

Alessia kept her voice neutral, but her eyes were flare guns. "You idiot! You brought a Montoya home? You found the one Montoya at Princeton and brought her home to meet the family?"

"What's the problem?" Benvolio had a feeling he knew what the problem was. His mouth immediately went dry.

"My god, but you are out of it! Tulio Montoya is Selina Capulet's first cousin!"

Benvolio stopped in his tracks. "Selina? Which one is she again?"

"Fulgencio's sister-in-law, dick!"

"Ok. But there's a truce. It shouldn't matter, right? I mean, this could be the first step to resolving the past…"

"Big talker, aren't we? That was exactly the thinking that Romeo and Juliet had. Yes, I said it. The Barcelona Martial Institute for Boys? It's a fighting school! They train all the Capulet boys!"

Benvolio remembered Tybalt's fancy fighting style that he and Mercutio had mocked on the beach that fateful day. "Why should that be a problem?"

"Because Fulgencio keeps sending Capulet boys over to Spain to get trained, and Tulio Montoya sends the Capulets weapons, and Ted sees is as a threat. He's sent a guy in there before to try and shut down the business, but he got arrested. The Montoya name is absolute sin in our family. There's a Montoya family in Verona Beach, totally unrelated, and Ted had all the men thrown in jail! Do you get it now?"

Benvolio resumed walking. "This is a disaster. A bloody God damn disaster. I'm finished."

"Don't need to tell me, I know."

"No, you don't, Alessia." Benvolio grabbed her arm. "You don't know the half of it."

Alessia blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"I, um…" Benvolio suddenly became very interested in a loose thread on his sweater. "I haven't been very forthcoming with Maria."

"About what?"

"A few things. Our family business…"

"Well, that's excusable."

"My real name…"

Alessia's jaw plummeted. "Please tell me I heard you wrong. You haven't told her your REAL NAME?"

Benvolio slammed a hand over her mouth. "Shut up, she'll hear you!"

"She needs to!" Tears actually began to pool in Alessia's eyes. "Have you two slept together?"

"That's none of your business."

"She slept with a guy and she doesn't even know his name. Benvolio Montague, I've come across some dickheads, but you just go above and beyond!"

Now it was Benvolio's turn for tears to well up in his eyes. "You don't know. Ok? You weren't even involved in the crap that happened last summer. All anybody knows is that you're a Montague; you've never been on the cover of goddamn Time Magazine! And furthermore, you spend all your time in Verona Beach, where everybody knows already! I'm in New Jersey, alone in that huge apartment for the first time, and excuse me if I want to keep this girl from the shit that goes on in my family!"

Maria had obviously finished her conversation with Sampson and started to fall back to join Benvolio and Alessia. Alessia kept talking, but her voice dropped to a whisper.

"You bastard, I'm Romeo's cousin too! I loved him, and I miss him! And I loved Mercutio, and I miss him too! And if I did decide to 'reinvent myself', or whatever the hell you call it, I would bloody well make sure that I told my boyfriend the truth before he meets the family I've been hiding from him!"

"So I should take her back. When's the next flight to New Jersey?" Benvolio craned his neck to read arrival and departure times on the board, but Alessia let out a groan. "Well, what do you suggest?"

"If you go home, Ted will feel insulted and Caroline will be crushed. And Ted will be angry with you for upsetting Caroline. Do you really want someone like Ted Montague feeling insulted and angry?"

"But I'm next in line, I'm being educated…"

"So? You insult one Montague, you insult all Montagues! Ted's the oldest brother! He can exile you from the family!"

Benvolio didn't say anything, but he thought that severing contact wouldn't be so bad. Sure, he'd miss Alessia and his parents, but wouldn't that be the best way to put his past behind him?

"Benvolio, if you leave, you will be running away. If you want to leave the family, you leave. But go out with a bang. At least you'll have their respect. You won't have any if you slink away. And you know the unwritten code: if you're ostracized, you can't come back until you're forgiven. If you yourself leave, you can go back whenever you want." Maria was nearing them now; Alessia started speaking very fast. "Tell Maria the truth. Let her decide."

"Tell me what?" Maria fell into step beside the two siblings, who plastered smiles on their faces immediately.

"I…" Benvolio cast around wildly. "I get acne sometimes."

Maria shrugged. "I know. I've seen it before."

Benvolio laughed nervously, and glanced apologetically at Alessia, who glared at him. Maria looked very cool on the outside, but Benvolio knew that she was probably freaking out. "Maria, it's pretty warm. You should probably take your sweater off."

"Ok…" Maria tentatively unzipped her hoodie, revealing a plain white wifebeater over her pink skirt. "But what about you? You've got a couple of layers on yourself."

"Are you kidding? I'm a Florida boy. Ben Magli never gets hot."

Alessia cleared her throat. "Well, Ben Magli, I think you might have forgotten how, you know, 'hot' Verona Beach can get. I'll leave you two alone now."

As Alessia quickened her pace to catch up with Sampson, Benvolio wrapped his arm around Maria's shoulder and gave her a long kiss on the temple.

"What was that for?"

Benvolio sighed. All the pain of losing his cousins came back to him as he imagined a life without Maria. "I just want you to know that I love you, no matter what happens."

Maria looked surprised. "Ben, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me!" She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

"I love you too. So, so much."

"Really?"

"Really. I don't think your sister's too fond of me, though."

"No, she loves you. She told me. She is acting pretty weird, though. Maria, there's something I need to tell you…"

Benvolio never got a chance. A wall of polluted air hit them, and he realized they'd stepped outside and were standing in front of an idling baby-blue car. At the wheel was Gregory, who had grown his hair to cover the bold Montague tattoo at the base of his head. Maria had not caught Benvolio's last words, as she was now slipping through the car door that was being held open by Sampson. Benvolio bit back a groan of frustration and plunked into the seat next to her, followed by Alessia, who leaned into his ear and starting whispering.

"You didn't tell her yet, did you?

Benvolio didn't move.

Alessia continued whispering. "Asshole. Dick. Retard. I can't believe you. I totally overestimated your chivalry. You don't deserve her. You don't deserve anyone. I'm ashamed of you."

He was the only one who could hear her. Gregory and Sampson were talking very loudly to Maria, trying to out-brag each other. Benvolio could have fought back, or silenced her at the very least, but the truth was that he didn't want to. He knew he was all she was saying, and worse. He regretted everything, and the only way he could even remotely forgive himself at the moment was to take all the abuse he could get.

* * *

I know people are reading this story! I have checked the number of hits I've gotten every day! But nobody is reviewing! Please! I need to know if I'm embarrassing myself and doing badly! 


	4. Benvolio Montague

Due to some much-appreciated constructive criticism, I've tried to beef up the emotion in the story. I hope you like it.

* * *

With a flash of resolve, Benvolio leaned forward and flicked the back of Gregory's head, right over the hidden tattoo. "Hey, Greg, can we stop somewhere first? I'm…well, I'm kind of hungry." Everyone in the car glanced sideways at him. "You know how plane food is."

Sampson shrugged. "I'm up for it."

Maria cocked her head. "I don't remember any food on the plane."

Benvolio laughed nervously. "You were out like a light. I didn't want to wake you."

Maria didn't look convinced, but she didn't say anything else.

Alessia coughed. "It's Thanksgiving. I'm sure Aunt Caroline'll have food."

Benvolio raised his eyebrows at her until there was danger of them disappearing into his hairline. "I have a craving for the hotdogs they sell at Monument Park. I haven't had one in the longest time. Come on, guys."

It was like a bad movie. Everyone in the car exchanged glances with everyone else. Maria was catching on to the unspoken conversations going on between the relatives, and the insecurity in her eyes was enough to make Benvolio want to rush her back to New Jersey as fast as possible.

It was Gregory who mustered up the courage to reply. "Um, are you sure, Benvo—"

"I'm very, very sure," Benvolio muttered through clenched teeth.

Gregory glanced back at Alessia, who closed her eyes and nodded. Shrugging his shoulders, he abruptly swung the steering wheel to the left, causing everyone in the back seat to collapse on top of the person to the right of hem. The car shuddered to a halt in a parking space that was most certainly illegal.

"Alright, you get your hotdog, we'll wait here."

"Ok." Looking around awkwardly, his eyes finally landed on Maria. "Hey, Mare, come with me."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Monument Park is really nice this time of year."

"Ok…but I'll pass on the hotdog."

Benvolio hadn't been lying: Monument Park really did look beautiful. The palm trees reminded Benvolio that he looked ridiculous in his sweater, and he pulled it off to tie around his shoulders. Decorative pools and artful flower gardens were accented with subtle stone statues. This time of year, they most commonly depicted sleek, fierce "turkeys of prey" and abstract cornucopias. The lawns were manicured, and the flat stone walkways were always swept clean. The area where venders sold their wares was a huge raised stone platform surrounded by rustic wooden benches. However,

Benvolio steered her away from the platform and towards the centerpiece of the park: a circular marble monument with two tiers and two brass statues on each level.

"Maria, there's something I really need to tell you."

Maria didn't respond, but she sighed heavily.

"I've sort of been keeping a few things from you."

Finally, Maria looked up. "Indeed. You haven't told me anything about your family. For instance, how they're all in on this joke or something and I'm clueless. I'm totally freaking out here, Ben."

There was a hysterical quality to her voice, and Benvolio grabbed her hand. "Maria, it's not their fault. It's my fault. Listen, there's some stuff I need to tell you."

Maria stopped walking and rolled her eyes. "How long is this list going to be?"

Benvolio cringed. "I'll admit I deserved that. Ok, number one. My name…"

Maria's eyes widened. "Ben, please say you're kidding."

A mirthless smile stretched Benvolio's lips as he shook his head.

"Benvolio."

Maria crossed her arms. "Benvolio Magli. Well, I can understand why you wanted to hide that mouthful, although it's still pretty sick that you hid it, considering how long we've been together, and I have to say I'm not all that sympathetic…"

"Maria? That's not all. I've sort of skewered the last name bit, too."

Maria didn't move. Her face seemed frozen in an expressionless stare.

"It's Benvolio Montague."

The subtlest ripple of recognition passed over Maria's delicate features, but quickly dissipated. Benvolio had worried for a split second that the Montague name to the Montoya's was like the Montoya name to the Montague's, but if Maria did recognize the name, she obviously couldn't place it.

"You make me sick, Ben. How could you lead me on like this?"

Whatever small comfort Maria's lack of recognition had given him was immediately incinerated. "I know, Mare. I make myself sick sometimes. But there's more."

"There's more?" Maria's voice rose to a shout, and a couple of heads inclined in their direction. "Jesus Christ, Ben!"

Benvolio massaged his temples. "I know, I know. There's something I need to show you. Come on."

Benvolio reached out to grab Maria's hand, but she moved it out of his range before he could catch it. He turned his head to hide the fresh tears that had begun to form in his eyes. "Maria, please. I really want to show you something. Follow me."

Maria shook her head. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you…"

Benvolio sighed. "Please. I promise I won't hurt you. I would never, ever do that."

Maria stood still for a while, thinking. Finally, she shrugged. "What the hell. I trust you on this one."

It wasn't the response Benvolio had hoped for, but it was good enough.

Slowly, he made his way towards the monument, Maria a few paces behind him. They reached the gate, and a quick nod to the stiff guard had the wrought-iron gate creaking open for them to enter. No sooner had they stepped onto the stone surrounding the monument than the gate snapped shut again. Maria immediately panicked.

"What the hell, Ben! Did that thing lock?"

Benvolio sighed heavily. "No, no, God, Maria! I'm not going to do anything. I just want you to look."

Taking a shuddering breath, Benvolio crossed himself, took off his shoes and started ascending the marble steps. Maria hung back for a moment, but eventually curiosity prevailed and she followed suit. They stepped off the staircase at the top of the first tier, and Benvolio led her towards the left-hand statue. He pressed his fist to his lips, and then placed it on the plaque next to the life-sized statue. After a couple of moments of reflection, he turned to Maria.

"Our families are pretty similar. My father and his two brothers own a business, mostly real estate, but it's pretty competitive. The main rival is, or used to be, this other family business. The thing is, our two families have been rivals long before the business ever grew. And when I say rivals, I mean full-out gang violence between the two of us. The sons of both families went head to head last summer." Here, Benvolio paused, not sure what to tell her next.

Maria blinked slowly, not sure what to make of the information. "You mean a gun fight?"

"A bunch, actually."

Maria took a shuddering breath and read the plaque. "'Mercutio Escalus…beloved son, brother, friend. In pace requiem.' Oh my god…" Maria looked at Benvolio in horror. "Did he die?"

"Yeah." Benvolio blinked away a tear. "Come on." He stepped back onto the staircase and headed towards the second tier. Maria stared at the plaque for a few more seconds before catching up with Benvolio.

"Ben…I mean, Benvolio…"

Benvolio, displeased with how awkward his name sounded on her lips, grunted.

"Was that…Mercutio…did he go to Princeton?"

Benvolio stopped in his tracks. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Jess spoke about him one time. I think she met him at a party. They… well, you know."

"Boy, do I."

They reached the top tier and stepped onto the platform. This tier held the legendary "Forbidden Love" statue that was famous throughout Verona Beach and the surrounding towns. Two pedestals were placed three feet apart from each other. A brass man stood on one, and a woman stood on the other. They faced each other, and clasped hands over the gap. Benvolio paid respects in the same manner as he had for Mercutio, and faced Maria.

"My cousin Romeo and his wife Juliet, who was a daughter of the first brother of our rival family. They kept their relationship and marriage a secret. It was her cousin who killed Mercutio, and shot by Romeo. When Juliet's parents arranged her marriage to another guy, she faked her own death, relying on Romeo to get her and take her away. But he didn't get the message. He thought she really was dead, and swallowed cyanide. When she woke up, Romeo was dead. She killed herself with his gun."

Benvolio's voice broke, and he noticed the tears he had fought against so hard finally running down his face. Maria's eyes were shining, and her face was filled with shock.

"Oh, Ben…" she took a few steps forwards and encircled Benvolio in a warm hug, which he gladly returned. When they broke apart, Maria too was fighting to control herself. "If I had known…"

"I'm sorry, Maria," he whispered.

"Who did this?" she whimpered. "Who killed Mercutio?"

This was it. This was when she would discover that their love was almost as forbidden as Romeo's and Juliet's had been.

"There's one more thing I need to show you."

This time, Maria held Benvolio's hand all the way down the steps. She seemed to have forgiven him, but this was a bitter blessing, as Benvolio would almost have preferred it if she were mad at him when they separated. It might have been less painful that way.

Benvolio couldn't bring himself to pay tribute to Tybalt's statue like he had done with the other ones. He knew he was being selfish and spiteful, but he hadn't yet managed to forgive Tybalt for Mercutio's murder. He was about to launch into the last bit of the story, when Maria let out a shriek.

"Maria!" Darting forwards, Benvolio grabbed Maria's hand. "What's the matter?"

Maria didn't answer. Her eyes darted from the plaque to the statue's face, growing wider with every second. Finally, she managed to speak.

"Ben. Please tell me he did not kill Mercutio."

"What?" Benvolio grabbed Maria's shoulders and looked her in the eye.

"Maria, this is Tybalt Capulet, Juliet's cousin. Yes, he did kill Mercutio. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Remember I told you about that cousin of mine that went to my father's school? The cousin that I got involved with?"

Benvolio stared at Maria. "Oh my god." Letting go of her, he leaned his head against the marble. "Oh my god. And I thought it couldn't get any worse."

"Any worse than what?" Maria was absolutely hysterical. "The fact that I've kissed my own cousin is screwed up enough already. Now I find out that he killed your best friend. And…" Maria fell against the marble.

"Your cousin killed him. Tybalt is dead. How much worse can it get than that?"

"Maria, we can't be together."

Maria stopped talking and looked up at Benvolio with mournful brown eyes. "What?"

"We can't be together anymore. I wish we could. I love you, Maria. But it's dangerous."

Maria shrugged. "Whatever. It would have been weird forever anyways." She frowned. "But how is it dangerous?"

Benvolio sank down to a sitting position and dropped his head in his hands. "Your father runs a fighting school. Every Capulet son goes thereto get trained. Your father gets them the weapons and bulletproof vests. After last summer, my uncle Ted too away all our guns and forbade us from getting into any arguments with the Capulet boys. Fulgencio, the head of the Capulet family, continues to send the boys over there, and accepts weapons from your father. My family sees it as an insult and a threat. Ted has even sent people to Spain to try and stop it. We can't fight the Capulet's, but the Montoya name is sin in our house."

Throughout Benvolio's speech, Maria's face had gradually relaxed until it was totally neutral. If she felt even a fraction of the emotions Benvolio was going through, she didn't show it. Instead, she got up slowly, straightened her skirt, and made her way back down the staircase.

"Maria…" Benvolio darted after her, finally blocking her path. "Please don't leave like this. At least…let me call you a cab and buy your ticket."

"Ticket? To where?" Maria continued walking, and Benvolio fell into step behind her. "If you're not going to get the hotdog, we should get back to the car. Your aunt is waiting for us."

Benvolio stopped walking and worked out what Maria was implying. "Mare, hold it. Did you not hear anything I just said? My uncle will kill me if I take you there, and he might kill you too." Maria stopped and stared at him. "Maria, I'm serious. He's totally unpredictable."

Slowly, eyes cast down, Maria walked back to where Benvolio was standing.

"Benvolio Montague, I love you."

Benvolio stared at her, incredulous. "You do? After everything I've kept from you?"

"That crap is not you!" Maria placed her hand on Benvolio's cheek. "You're family, everything. It's not you. I'm mad at you for not telling me before I got here…"

"Maria, Alessia told me everything in the airport. I swear I would have never led you on…"

"No, Ben, not about that. You have nothing to do with that. I wish you had told be about Romeo and Mercutio. They were your best friends. You were grieving so hard…and still are," she added as a tear landed on her finger. Gently, she brushed away another one that was rolling down Benvolio's cheek. "I'd seen you around campus before we met, and you looked so sad, I wished I could have helped you. You never opened up to me."

"Maria, I wanted to tell you," he whispered. "I could never find the courage. I was worried I might scare you away. I wanted to keep you safe from this."

Maria sighed and took his hand. "I had it figured out. While you were asleep the first night I spent at your place, I stumbled into another bedroom on my way to the bathroom and saw the picture of the three of you. After asking around a bit, I put two and two together. I could never have guessed the way they died or any of your family issues, but why else would you have kept them from me?"

Benvolio didn't know what to say. This was more than he had ever expected from a girl. Finally, he brushed Maria's lips with his own, and balanced his chin on her shoulder as he gave her a final squeeze. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. As for your uncle, I have faith in you." She smiled impishly. "I'm sure he wouldn't want to drive away his first nephew."

Benvolio couldn't help it; he had to laugh. How many times had Ted said something along those lines? "Benvolio, son, you're my first nephew. I have faith that you'll carry on admirably as the head of the business when I'm gone."

"Well, Maria, I admire you." Benvolio offered her his arm, which she took, smiling. "Let's get back before Alessia sends out a search party."

* * *

This chapter was hard to write. The words weren't coming very easily. I hope it's ok. Please R&R.Thanks for the review, Andzia! Continue to review...I need some motivation to continue! I FINISHED MY EXAMS TODAY SO THE STORY IS NO LONGER AN EXCUSE TO PROCRASTINATE! 


	5. Family Meal

As Benvolio and Maria approached the car, they could see everyone inside facing each other, their mouths moving furiously. Occasionally, an unintelligible shout would penetrate the walls, normally made by Alessia.

Her head drifted to the side, and her eyes locked with Benvolio's. When she raised her eyebrows, he nodded and gave a discrete thumbs-up. Alessia stopped the conversation just before Benvolio opened the door.

"So, Kenobi, is your hunger satisfied?" asked Alessia. The question was dripping with sarcasm. Judging by the way everyone was gawking at the Benvolio and Maria, they all had a very good idea of what had just taken place.

As Gregory put the car in gear, he glanced at Maria in the review mirror. "Hey, Mare, what did you think of the park?"

"Very enlightening." She sighed and placed her head on Benvolio's shoulder. "He was right. It is beautiful." Sampson pretended to stick his finger down his throat.

The Montague mansion was unlike anything Benvolio had ever seen. The façade had always seemed forbidding to him, even though he had gone there often since he was born. Most mansions, though formidable, he had heard described as "beautiful" or "breathtaking". These, like the Capulet mansion, were generally modeled after a famous palace. The owners felt no reservation at showing their wealth to the world, trusting on their electronic gates, alarm systems and 24-hour security guards to protect them against thieves. The grounds boasted lush gardens and every type of outdoor recreation equipment available, though rarely used.

From the street, the Montague mansion didn't resemble a home at all. The forbidding wall of stone stretched for six hundred meters along the road, and a thick orchard blocked most of the house from view. The only part that showed was a black-shingled tower that seemed to pierce the sky. The gate, a goliath twenty-foot iron thing, was manned by two stiff, beefy guards, standing at attention with machine guns clasped in their hands. Though the gate looked antique, the stainless-steel box holding the gate shut betrayed its newness.

Gregory swung the car into the driveway and poked his head out the window. "Hey guys, Ben Kenobi's home! And he brought a chick!"

Benvolio rolled his eyes, but Maria laughed.

The black-haired guard tried his best to look welcoming. "Welcome home, Mr. Montague. And welcome to the house of Montague, Miss…"

"Montoya." As soon Sampson said it, he had received a smack from everyone in the car, except Maria. "I mean, just kidding…"

The guard's eyebrows contracted. "Miss Montoya."

Maria placed her hand on Sampson's shoulder. "It's ok, Sam. It's fine."

Gregory cleared his throat uncomfortably. "How about opening the gate for a brother?"

As the huge gate swung inwards and the car started to roll through the orchard, Benvolio felt his pulse rate quicken. It started to feel very warm in the car. Every bounce in the road caused him to jump a mile. He reached up to rub his face, and his hand came away slick with sweat. As the five-story mansion loomed ahead, everyone in the car grew silent and wide-eyed. Benvolio grabbed Maria's hand. This was it.

"You know, Benvolio used to say he'd kill to live here." Alessia stared at the mansion thoughtfully as she said this, not to anyone in particular.

This remark made Benvolio feel even worse. He remembered the exact place he'd said it. He had been sipping a beer in the pool hall at Sycamore Grove, watching Romeo absent-mindedly sink ball after ball, all the while ranting about everything wrong in his life.

* * *

"And my parents, don't even get me started on them," Romeo grunted as he lined up his shot. 

"I didn't…" In Benvolio's opinion, he was being a very good friend. All the other guys they had come with had long bailed on them, being unused to Romeo's routine angst. Romeo continued as though Benvolio hadn't even spoken.

"That stupid mansion. Like they can afford it. They're so far in the hole when it comes to their mortgage. It's unbelievable. They're relying on us to keep it, you know?" The cue ball ricocheted off 5, sending it neatly into the pocket before zinging into 6. Without needing to look, Benvolio raised his cue to the scoreboard on the wall behind him and slid another two markers over to Romeo's side. "That's why they were so gung-ho about getting us to Princeton. They say it's for the business. Right. The business is there to pay for that stupid mansion!"

The anger that came with the last remark caused Romeo to send the cue ball catapulting through the whole table, knocking numerous balls around, but not into any targets. Benvolio stood up, stretched his legs, and lined up his shot.

"So my father expects me to live there for my whole life. Good lord. If I were allowed to have personal goals, they would not include being the head of my father's business."

"Which one, the public one or the underground one?" muttered Benvolio as he plopped himself back into his chair having failed to sink his shot.

"I don't know…both of them," grunted Romeo. "And if I were allowed to have personal goals, it would be to move out as fast as possible. The prospect of living in that house the rest of my life is a nightmare."

Benvolio thumped his cue against the linoleum thoughtfully. "My god, Romeo, I would kill to live in that house."

Romeo froze in his bent-over posture. After a second, he straightened up and pointed his cue at Benvolio. "Something tells me you won't need to kill anybody, my friend."

* * *

"You know, Benvolio, you don't need to kill anybody," said Sampson, uncharacteristically seriously. The contrast between his gawky face and Romeo's sharp yet pleasant features was so funny that Benvolio was tempted to start laughing, but he controlled himself at the sight of the melancholy faces staring at him. 

Sampson continued talking, more to himself then to anybody else, seeming to marvel at the situation. "You're next in line. As soon as you're done college, you're free to move in with Ted and Caroline. You and your wife…"

Realizing what he had just said, Sampson turned around in his seat to stare at Maria. Nobody spoke. Maria looked first at Sampson, and then slid her focus to Benvolio.

The car shuddered to a halt behind a huge black hummer, but nobody made a move to get out. Several times, Greg or Sam or Alessia jerked towards the door, but drifted back into their seats with awkward expressions on their faces.

"You guys go in, we'll be along. Tell them…" Benvolio cast around for a un-suspicious-sounding excuse, but could find none in his paranoid brain. "Tell them whatever you can think of." In retrospect, it was probably not the best idea to rely on Sampson or Gregory's imagination, but Benvolio had far more tentative things to worry about.

Maria scooted down the seat and brought her knees up to her chest, gazing at Benvolio. She was waiting for him to tell her the plan. Benvolio guessed that she assumed he would be used to these potentially life-or-death situations, and he supposed she was right. The problem was, his best defense had always been his Saber. Shooting a relative, not to mention the head of the family, was most definitely a social taboo. Besides, all of the guns any member of the Montague family had ever owned were locked in the vault.

Finally, Benvolio sighed. "Maria, are you sure you still want to do this?"

Maria nodded resolutely. "Would you like me to tell you why?" She didn't even wait for an answer. "First off, I love you, and I can't bear to have to hide our relationship. It'll tear me up."

"But not physically." Benvolio let his finger trace patterns on her thigh. "I'll be devastated too, but we'll both be happy and healthy enough to continue it in secret."

"And then, when we find out we can't live without each other, I'll harm myself in some ill-advised scheme that you'll misunderstand, and then we'll both be screwed!" Benvolio watched in horror as Maria dropped her forehead to her knee and took a deep breath. "Oh god, Ben, I'm so sorry. That was totally out of line."

"I guess you were right. But Maria?" Benvolio raised her chin and looked into her eyes. "Don't tell them your name. Let me gage the situation first. If it looks dangerous, I'll get you out of there." Maria looked disappointed, but Benvolio was confident. "Just trust me."

Maria shrugged. "Ok."

Before they could get out of the car, a sharp tap resonated over the back window. Benvolio's mother Lisa stared in at them, waving and smiling. Benvolio grinned back, but rolled his eyes as when he looked away. "Ready for this?"

Maria nodded and smiled. "As ready as I'll ever be."

As Benvolio clambered out of the back of the car, a thousand kisses hit his face at once, and a pair of skinny arms crushed his ribs together.

"Oh, my baby boy! I've missed you so much! Oh, Benvolio, I'm so glad you're home!"

"Hey, ma. I've missed you too." Benvolio bent down and gave Lisa a peck on the cheek, then subtly detangled himself from her crushing embrace. "Ma, this is my girlfriend Maria. Maria, this is my mom."

Maria smiled and approached, her hand outstretched. "Mrs. Montague, it's lovely to meet you…"

"Oh!" Lisa, ignoring the hand, gave Maria a squeeze, complete with a kiss on each cheek. "My darling, I'm so happy that Benvolio's found a beautiful Signorina like you! His dad will be so happy!"

Maria laughed nervously. "Signorina? Oh, Mrs. Montague, I'm…"

Benvolio caught her eye over Lisa's shoulder and made a slashing motion across his neck with one finger.

Maria blinked. "…Very happy to meet you."

"Me too, dear." Releasing Maria, she turned to the both of them. "Everyone's waiting for you."

Benvolio had never thought of himself as an actor before today, yet he was sure that his performance for his family was award-worthy. Though it felt like his internal organs had spontaneously evaporated and all that was left was a howling void, he went through the motions of cheek-to-cheeking each of his relatives, accompanied with a firm handshake for the men and a hug for the women. Caroline held on to him for a particularly long time, letting go only after Benvolio felt his shoulder becoming warm and wet with her tears. Ted greeted Benvolio in his usual macho-Italiano style. Benvolio, who had a tangible fear of getting shot by the man later in the night, responded as best he could.

"Hey, Zio. How've you been?"

"Never better, Benvolio, never better!"

Benvolio nodded rigidly and tried to smile.

Juanita the maid sidled up and took shoulder bag. Then, she walked up to Maria. "Puedo levar tu bolso, señorita?"

Before Maria could reply, Caroline frowned at Juanita and interrupted her. "Juanita, what have I told you about speaking Spanish to the company? You are confusing Maria."

"It's okay, Mrs. Montague." Offering her bag, Maria smiled as Juanita. "Sí, gracias."

Caroline frowned. "You speak Spanish?"

Maria balked for a second, remembering the stern warning she had received from Benvolio. She tried to catch his eye, but he seemed to be preoccupied with his ancient and only Italian-speaking grandmother. Caroline's eyes narrowed inquisitively, and Maria knew she had to save herself. "I took a Spanish class when I was younger." What Maria neglected to mention, of course, was that every class she had taken as a child had been in Spanish. Caroline didn't look convinced, but dropped the issue.

For now, anyways.

* * *

When they finally sat down to dinner, the tension between the cousins was through the roof. The parents had noticed, and were glancing at everyone with inquisitive looks. So many unspoken conversations had occurred throughout the evening. 

First, they had taken seats in the sitting room. A drink found its way into everyone's hand, and the uncles had smoked cigars. The football game played in the background as the family tried to play catch-up. The conversation had been mostly inane until the subject of Maria and Benvolio had arisen.

"So tell me, you two, how did you meet?" Benvolio's mother, ever the gossip addict, snuggled into her armchair to prepare for the story.

Again, Maria glanced at Benvolio, who shrugged, deciding that the story was harmless. Maria narrated the collision, re-organization of her books and Starbucks run in great detail, although tactfully leaving out the conversation they had had. The men turned to the football game while the women smiled, nodded and sighed.

The only one who didn't look moved by the story was Caroline. She sat perched on the edge of her chair, staring at Maria like she was trying to see through her. Finally, she spoke, using tones more direct and far less conversational then anyone had been using.

"And what part of Italy did you say you were from?"

The smile died on Maria's face. "I've been all over Italy." Benvolio gritted his teeth. He knew Maria was determined not to tell any lies, but these word games were killing him slowly with suspense.

"Fine. Where were you born, then?"

Stubbornly, Maria again refused to lie. Instead, she slurred "Barcelona" so much that it could have sounded like any city in Western Europe.

In the midst of their cheering, Gregory and Sampson sensed something was up. They looked back at Maria as soon as she said it, their eyes darting between her and Caroline. Alessia, back from the washroom, paused in the doorway, and a few seconds of looking at the scene in front of her told her everything she needed to know about the situation. It was a horrible moment. The cousins were paralyzed with tension, Benvolio was dying with nervousness, Maria was about to cry from the pressure, and the adults were absolutely silent.

Then, just as it had begun, it was over. Juanita had arrived at the doorway, announcing dinner was ready, and the mood in the room changed as everyone made their exit to the dining room.

Since the summer, the seating plan in the dining room had changed entirely. Ted Montague sat at the head of the table. Caroline sat to his left, and Romeo had always sat to his right. Today, however, Ted indicated that the seat was now Benvolio's. He lowered himself into it, feeling very uncomfortable as his cousins gaped at him, no doubt remembering their conversation in the car. Maria slipped in beside him. Next to her was Benvolio's father, followed by Julio and Gregory. Beside Caroline on the other side were Sampson, Lisa, his aunt Pearl, and Alessia. His grandmother took the end of the table. Thankfully, they were spared the trial of staring at Romeo's empty seat; Maria rounded out the family perfectly.

After grace, the family started on their stracchiatella soup. Conversation was forced, and only revolved around the excellence of the first course. The only one not eating was Caroline. After a few minutes, she excused herself and left the table. For some reason, the hairs on the back of Benvolio's neck rose. There had been something odd about the way Caroline glanced at Maria before she left. He had to know. Casting around an apologetic smile, he got up to follow Caroline

* * *

Satisfied with the meal currently being cooked, Gloria Capulet headed toward the master bedroom to alert Fulgencio. She allowed herself a few seconds of tearing up before plastering a big smile onto her face. However, she didn't feel any better. Pressing her hands against her eyes, she willed the pesky tears to drip back to wherever they came from. 

Fulgencio would get angry with her if he knew she had been crying again, but she couldn't help it. It had been three months; for the past two Fulgencio had been insisting that they "carry on" as normal. He consistently lost patience with Gloria, who felt so many emotions pelting her: grief, hopelessness…and, most dominantly, guilt. She blamed herself for everything. She had pushed her, never listening, and when she had needed Gloria's help the most, the only thing Gloria had done was absolve herself of responsibility. Gradually, Gloria had learned to repress her pain, but the first holiday since her death was hauling all the refuse back to the surface. Thanksgiving had never been a special time for family, just an excuse to cook an expensive meal. Now, seeing the happy families congregating made her seethe with jealousy. Arriving at the mahogany door, she cleared her throat and tapped it lightly. "Fulgencio, darling, dinner's ready!"

"Uhhhhh…" Fulgencio's voice sounded strained, like he was lifting a television. "Give me a moment, I'm a little busy…"

Gloria frowned. "Doing what, can I help you?" She started to turn the door handle, but Fulgencio called out again.

"Hold it woman, I'm not decent!"

"So? We're married…" Gloria was about to push open the door when Fulgencio's face popped out. He was flushed and sweaty, shirtless, and very wide-eyed.

"For God's sake, LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled, twitching.

Before, Gloria might have burst into tears. This time, though, she barely flinched. The telltale bulge in the front of his boxers told her everything. Seeking confirmation, she pushed the door open before Fulgencio could grab it. She thought she would be prepared for the pending sight, but it was much worse than she had imagined.

* * *

"Juanita," hissed Caroline. Juanita's head sprung up and she dropped the pudding-filled spoon she had been sampling with. 

"I'm sorry, Señora…"

"Juanita, why did you speak Spanish to Maria?"

Juanita almost rolled her eyes, but caught herself just in time. "I'm sorry, Lady, but I assumed she'd understand it."

"Why?" Caroline's eyes were direct, but not patronizing. Juanita realized that she was no longer receiving a reprimand.

"She's Spanish." Picking up a heavy tray, Juanita smiled at Caroline and started to walk past her out of the room, but stopped when Caroline seized her arm.

"No…" Caroline laughed nervously, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"No, she's not…Spanish. She's Italian."

Juanita blinked slowly. "Ok, Señora."

Caroline didn't release her. "She's Italian. I don't know why you would think…why would you think she was Spanish?"

Juanita cleared her throat nervously. "She's darker than most Italians, and her eyes are thinner. Her accent is different, too. But, I guess I was wrong," she sang, finally brushing past Caroline and nearly colliding with Benvolio.

He looked horrified. His eyes were wide, and his breaths were shallow. He stared at Juanita as though she were a ghost. Caroline slowly turned around and locked eyes with Benvolio. Juanita slipped out of the kitchen as quick as she could.

"Zia, I…"

"Don't speak!" Caroline rushed up to Benvolio and placed both her hands on his shoulders. "Don't say a word! I don't know what you were thinking, but we need to figure something out…Oh, Benvolio…" Overcome with conflicting emotions, she rested her forehead against his chest and began to whimper. "Why now? How could you?"

Awkwardly, Benvolio stroked his aunt's back. "Zia, I'm sorry. I had no idea. Alessia told me in the airport…"

"And you brought her here anyways?" Caroline's eyes were desperate, her face stained with running mascara.

"I…yes."

"Why?"

Benvolio sighed. "It was like you told me. I had to give this a chance. I love this girl; I know I do. We've been together for two and a half months. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Don't you understand?" Caroline shook her head furiously. "I thought that being honest would…bring about change, or something…"

Caroline didn't appear angry, but her voice betrayed her rage. "Idiot boy. Do you kids think of anything but yourselves?" Her voice broke, but she continued. "I've already lost a son to this kind of thought. Shall I lose a nephew too?"

Benvolio restrained himself from raising his voice at his aunt. He knew all this. He hated being patronized like this. He wanted to shout at her that Romeo's death had affected him too, and that they were all spitting on his memory by continuing this hate against others. Instead, he forced himself to whisper. "What should I do?"

Caroline shook her head. "I don't know. Don't tell them, for God's sake. Just finish the dinner, excuse yourself early and get the hell out of here."

Benvolio hated this idea. He didn't want to be a coward. He wanted to make an impact on this damned family, but he had to give credit to Caroline's simple plan. Grudgingly, he nodded, turned on his heel and strode back into the dining room.

* * *

Christine, Gloria's maid, was lying spread-eagled and naked across the made bed. Her hands, feet and torso were bound tightly with ropes. She looked to be almost unconscious with terror. Terrified, Gloria darted forward and tried to undo the binds, but her fingers were shaking too violently for her to gain purchase in the knots. Fulgencio stood in the doorway, stunned, but quickly recovered his wits. With a scream, he bounded towards the bed and seized Gloria around the waist. Kicking violently, her foot eventually made contact with Fulgencio's groin, and she slithered out of his arms as he crumpled to the ground. There was no time to free the girl; he was already crawling towards the armoire where he kept his gun. 

"I'll get help," she yelled over her shoulder as she sprinted from the room. Christine's screams followed her down the hallway. Grabbing her purse, she burst through the front door and threw herself into the first car on the driveway.

* * *

Marty rubbed his eyes and sighed. He'd been on his feet all day; all he wanted to do was go home to his wife. But that stupid Montoya girl…she was probably harmless. It didn't matter. Marty could brush off responsibility all he wanted, but if the Montague's found out that a Montoya had infiltrated their property, all the blame would find it's way back to the security guard on duty. And it had to be him, didn't it? 

It must have been a different Montoya. There were, after all, Montoya's right here in Verona Beach. Didn't matter. Ted was on a rampage; any and every Montoya was his enemy.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the phone and dialed Ted's cell phone number. After a couple of rings, the line engaged, and Ted's voice boomed over the phone.

"What is it?"

"Hi, Mr. Montague, this is Marty, the front-gate security guard."

"What do you want? I'm eating dinner with my family!"

"Yes, I know. I'm very sorry, but…" Without thinking, Marty plunged into is rehearsed speech. "I just thought you should know that the girl's last name is Montoya."

A stunned silence met him. Finally, Ted coughed. "You're sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"This isn't some sick joke?"

"Sir, I wish it was."

A crash met his ear, followed by a long, sustained beep. The line was dead. Marty shrugged; he'd done what he'd needed to do. Making sure that the next shift was set up, he grabbed his bag and headed towards his car.

The dining room was deathly still when Benvolio walked in with Caroline. Everyone was staring at Ted, and he followed suit. His uncle stared at his empty plate, breathing deeply. He was holding half of his cell phone; the other half was sitting on the table, surrounded by bits of splintered plastic. Caroline quietly slipped into her seat. Finally, Ted spoke, his voice a throaty rumble.

"How were you raised boy?" After a few seconds, Benvolio realized that Ted was addressing him, but he was at a loss for words.

"Zio? What do you mean?"

"Were you taught to piss on your entire family name?"

"I…no."

Ted abruptly rose from his seat. "EVIDENTLY, you were. Because otherwise, how could you allow that THING in my home?" He flung his arm out, and Benvolio realized that his uncle was pointing at Maria.

Maria stood up and backed away from the table, and Benvolio stepped in front of her. "I won't try to make excuses. I'll just say that I never intended disrespect towards you. In fact, I was doing it for Romeo."

Ted's eyes flashed and his lips pulled back into a snarl. "You dare to insult my boy!"

Benvolio gasped; this wasn't the intended effect. "No! Just the opposite!"

Ted started towards Benvolio with surprising speed. "Do not lie in my face!" With unreal strength, Ted sent his fist across Benvolio's cheek.

Unprepared for the attack, Benvolio fell sideways into the table, blood dripping from his lips. Gasps and screams filled the air. He tried to push himself up, but a kick sent him sprawling. Quickly, he rolled over and slid onto the floor in a crouching position, crab-walking until he had space enough to stand. He dodged another attack from his uncle and glanced at Maria. Her fingers were laced into her black hair, and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Mare, go to the car and stay there. I'll be right…" Ted pushed him backwards into the wall, staring into his eyes.

"You still defend her. That backstabbing bitch!"

A fire rose in Benvolio's belly. "Don't you DARE!" With that, Benvolio shoved Ted backwards, freeing himself. "She is ten times better than all of us here, and does not deserve your insult!"

"Benvolio, please," Maria whimpered. "Don't do this. Please, let's go."

Ted was no longer attacking. He stood, panting, his suit dishevelled, his arms curled defensively at his sides. Benvolio stared at everyone around the table. A mixture of anger and sadness was captured in everyone's faces, but nobody made a move to defend either of them. He felt Maria grab his arm and tug gently, and with a last backward glance, he followed her out of the dining room.

* * *

Hey, faithful readers! I realize there has been quite a delay, but I hope you will forgive me, because I am delivering a looooong chapter. I hope you like it! This will be my last update for a while as I will be travelling for six weeks. So, enjoy, and I hope to find lots of reviews waiting for me when I return! 


	6. Confrontation

Gripping the steering wheel with an iron vice, Benvolio glared at the road ahead of them and applied more weight to the gas pedal. The engine revs were the only things that could match his inner turmoil, and it was all he could do to keep himself from flooring the accelerator. Maria cowered in the seat next to him, too preoccupied with the events of the last five minutes to notice the speed with which they were careening down the twilight streets of Verona Beach. Benvolio meant to be driving to the airport, but soon his body began to control their destination instead of his brain. This was fine with him; he brain was too preoccupied anyways. As they turned down random roads, his head swirled with the blackest thoughts he had ever experienced. It was as though, after this last showcase of despicableness from his uncle, any feeling of compassion for any member of the Montague family had been shattered. Maria fared no better. She had been threatened and insulted by a family member of the man she loved, and she had never felt more hurt and humiliated in her life.

Desperate for some comfort, she slid her focus over to Benvolio, but what she saw there scared her. Sitting in the driver's seat wasn't the caring and compassionate guy she had fallen in love with. Rather, it was a bitter, vengeful man, lashing out at his entire life. The attitude that he was sitting in made it seem like he had forgotten she was in the car, or was refusing to acknowledge her.

Benvolio felt this mood settling in, and welcomed it. Though he had never noticed it before, he now realized that it characterized his entire life before Maria, even more so after Romeo's death. Nobody had ever known about the anger he had been carrying with him. It had been Mercutio, not even a member of his family, who had first called him on it. "Thou art like one of those fellows that when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says 'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need." He had denied it at the time, but now, just as he was learning things about his kin, he was learning about himself.

A slight brush on his arm brought him careening back to reality. Whipping his head to the right for a second, he was almost surprised to see Maria sitting there. A bubble of sorrow and regret pushed up under his angry thoughts when he once again realized the pain he had caused her. Her eyes were shiny and scared, and her lip trembled. Keeping his eyes on the road, Benvolio took her hand. Maria's stiff fingers began to relax around his, and Benvolio heard a relieved sigh from the passenger's seat. Finally able to focus on the road, Benvolio gazed at the landmark looming in front of them, not processing what it was for a few moments. Gradually, though, as the distinct architecture of the building was brought into sharper focus, Benvolio's heart jumped into his throat. St. Peter's Church, a building that he had not frequented since Romeo and Juliet's joint funeral, was approaching the car at alarming speed…

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As the car started to accelerate down the street, Gloria reviewed her options. Where would she go? She had no relatives in this God-forsaken city, and no friends she could trust. The church? Worth a try…after all, nobody would dare attack her in a church. Making her decision, Gloria swung the car down a street…and her cell phone dropped out of the glove compartment into the seat next to her.

With trembling fingers, Gloria flicked the phone open with one hand and stared at the cheery display screen. Should she…? Would they know it was Gloria? She hoped not: Fulgencio had paid off the VBPD countless times to keep himself out of jail. She imagined that it would be easy for him to figure out the name of his persecutor.

Giving herself a mental slap, Gloria furiously punched in the digits and held the phone to her ear. How could she be so selfish? There was a woman in serious trouble, and it was Gloria's duty to get help her out. After a wait that seemed to last forever, the operator finally answered.

"Verona Beach emergency services, how may I help you?"

"I need the police at the Capulet compound immediately," wailed Gloria.

She sensed the dispatcher hesitate for a second before replying.

"The…Capulet mansion? Police?"

Growling angrily, Gloria cursed the woman's entire family. "Yes, that's what I said, you stupid cow!"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, please try to calm down."

"CALM DOWN! Who the hell are you to tell me to calm down? I have just witnessed my husband RAPING a girl. It is the first Thanksgiving after the loss of my only child, and you have the BALLS to tell me to calm down!"

The woman gasped. "Who are you?"

Mentally kicking herself, Gloria slammed the phone shut and glued her eyes to the road again. Nearly missing the turn, she screeched into the alley that would lead her to the main drag on two wheels. A hundred meters ahead was the brightly lit street that fed directly into the parking lot of St. Peter's, and it was approaching at warp speeds. Gloria barely noticed the pressure she was exerting on the gas pedal.

Like a bat out of hell, her car burst into the intersection, black tire marks undulating behind her. Gloria's breath froze in her chest as she dug her heel into the brake pedal, furiously twisting the wheel to avoid the oncoming traffic. The atmosphere dissolved as the car spun out of control.

Gloria felt her mind collapse into white noise as the flickering headlights of another car alternately threw everything into sharp relief, or plunged her world into darkness. Flattened against the seat by the G-force, she eagerly awaited oblivion.

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The intersection had been deserted a moment before. He had the right of way. The light had been green. Benvolio had known all of this, been willing to stake his life on it. So what was this expensive-as-hell car doing in his path! As Benvolio jammed his foot onto the brake, Maria, who had been hyperventilating, let out a long and involuntary scream. As the two cars slid parallel to each other, the two drivers caught a glimpse of each other. It couldn't have lasted more than a second, but it may as well have been forever. Benvolio's throat closed and his eyes bulged out as he locked eyes with a woman he had not seen in months, whose only action towards him has been clawing aggression.

A crash, an explosion, a crushing pain that disappeared instantly. A pinpoint of brilliant light appeared at the centre of his vision and exploded outwards, masking a warped image of metallic disarray…

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_I know it took a long time, but the next installment is here! I know it is a pittance compared to the rest of the chapters, but it is very important. I hope you like it. What a cliffy. And you thought this story was going to be predictable..._

_Just thought I'd also let you know that this is my longest story ever. Enjoy._

_Curlz_


	7. Redemption

As always, the Friar's eyelids felt as though there was a magnetic force pulling them together. However, now, something told him that he needed to overcome it. Wrenching them open, he allowed himself a few seconds of laziness before whipping upright in his chair. Why had he woken up? Was it the dream again? No: for once, it hadn't been. This was something real, in the now.

Automatically, he reached for the shot glass on the edge of his desk and probed the bottom with his tongue, mopping up the last traces of tequila. The familiar burning sensation cleared his head immediately, and he remembered what had jolted him awake. It had been a crash of some sort, something cataclysmic.

Only now, he noticed the red and blue lights dancing on the wall opposite the window facing the street. His ear acclimatized to the sound of sirens and chaos of a crowd. Crossing the room in one leap, Friar Lawrence gazed over the scene with increasing horror.

"Holy Saint Francis."

A knock on the door startled him to action. Adjusting his white Roman Collar, he flung open the door and began to arrange his things.

"What is it?" he snapped, not looking at the frail altar boy standing in the doorframe as he dropped a bottle of holy oil into his bag.

"Father, there has been an…"

"Accident, a horrific automobile accident." Expertly, Friar Lawrence recovered the appropriate page in his travel Bible and secured it with a cross-shaped bookmark.

"Yes. There's a man at the door…"

"Tell him I'll be at the scene in ten minutes."

As the boy scurried down the corridor, the Friar dropped to his knees before the ornate mahogany crucifix on the wall of his office. _God, give me the strength to perform this task you have set me. Allow me momentary respite from my penance so that I may care for these poor souls as you have cared for me._ As always, he refrained from bursting furiously into the prayer he had recited countlessly in his dreams: _Please, why can't you let me be? I know what I did was wrong. I know it is my fault that Romeo and Juliet are dead, I understand all this, and yet you send me this crushing pain to carry with me every living moment. Even Jesus bore the cross for only one day. When will it end? When will I have finally atoned for my sin? Lord, take me now, send me to the flames if it pleases you, but please do not put me through another day._

Exactly ten minutes later, Friar Lawrence arrived at the scene, running at full speed. One of the cars was resting in the dead centre of the intersection, it's driver being fished out of the opening created by the Jaws of Life, for the door had proved too smashed and mangled to open. As the Friar neared the car, the screams of the woman reached his ears, and increased in volume as he approached. The one side of her face that he could see was covered with gashes, but as they loaded her onto the gurney, he caught a glimpse of the other side…and nearly fainted. For Gloria Capulet, the richest lady in Verona Beach, had just faced a disfiguring injury in a car crash that was most likely her own fault.

Before he could move toward her, however, Gloria turned her head and caught a glimpse of him. Instantly, her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened, causing the slashes across her face to contort and gape grotesquely. "Get away from me!" she yelled. "You killed her! Get away from me!"

Frantically, the young paramedic trying to stabilize her body cast a pleading glance at the priest. "Father, please get out of her sight, she's getting frantic!"

Friar Lawrence was only too happy to obey. Instead, he rushed to the other car, where the paramedics had already loaded a victim into the ambulance, and policemen were forcibly restraining a girl favouring her left side, who seemed to want to get in beside him. Her pleading wails alternated with groans of pain pierced the heart of all who heard them.

The Friar trotted over and motioned the policemen aside, who obliged too readily…even Friar Lawrence was often shocked at how much power the clergy held over the officials in Verona. Before the girl could leap into the ambulance, though, he grabbed her right hand so she couldn't pull away and stepped in front of her.

"Would you like me to go with him, my lady?" He used his practiced deathbed voice: calm, sombre, earnest, and amiable. Normally, the effect on the family members upon hearing it was perfect. This spitfire, though…as Friar Lawrence grew quieter, her eyes narrowed more, until she was nearly growling with rage.

"He isn't going to die, you moron!" she yelled in a Latin accent heard frequently around Verona Beach. With her useless right arm, a firm push on his chest wouldn't move him; undaunted, she delivered a crotch-thrust and a slap in rapid succession. The priest reeled to the side, and Maria leapt into the ambulance. Recovering quickly, he managed to get one foot in the door before freezing from shock. Benvolio Montague, the boy he had taught from infancy, the man to whom he had offered a shoulder to cry on, was unconscious and strapped to a board. Ignorant to Maria's blows, he advanced slowly into the cavity to get a better glance of Benvolio's face.

"Benvolio…" Friar Lawrence's breath caught in his throat. Would he have to deliver the last rites to the second-oldest Montague son as well? He knew he should, just in case, but something inside of him stayed his hand and blocked his voice. He couldn't let Benvolio die.

That Spanish girl was still screaming at him. Hating himself, he grabbed her right shoulder, and she inhaled sharply with pain. He took her momentary silence as an opportunity. "Who are you?"

The girl looked as though she wanted to kill him, but didn't dare yell again; he had her in too vulnerable of a position. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because you can help me help him. I need to know your name, your relationship and what happened tonight."

Her voice began to waver; the Friar couldn't tell if it was because she was trying to restrain herself from yelling, if she was anticipating the agony she would face if he moved her shoulder the slightest bit, or if she was already in agony and trying not to show it. "Benvolio will not die tonight."

"Agreed." Friar Lawrence sighed once more. "Please, I am his friend. I was friend to his cousin…Romeo, you've heard of Romeo?" His tactic worked; Maria's muscles loosened as the sorrowful story replayed itself in her head. "Tell me your name."

The girl raised her dark brown eyes to meet his and pursed her lips defiantly. "I am Señorita Maria Montoya," she intoned, using her strongest Spanish accent and forcing out the syllables like ammunition. With each flick of her tongue, Friar Lawrence jerked backwards a little more, and she glared at him as he buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, God…why have you done this to me?" He drew a shuddering breath, and felt tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. "Please, not again."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"Do you know who was in that other car?" the Friar retorted.

"Should I care?" she fired back.

"I would." He placed his hand over Benvolio's chest. "That was your uncle's sister-in-law. Gloria Capulet."

Far from looking surprised, Maria laughed ruefully. "Tía Gloria. I've heard of her. She was Tybalt's favourite aunt." The Friar was shocked, and Maria laughed again. "I'm going to need so much therapy, aren't I? Don't ask," she added, interrupting Friar Lawrence.

"I'll need one of you out," shouted a paramedic. He had one hand on a door, ready to slam it shut.

Friar Lawrence stared pointedly at Maria, and she glared back.

"Go, lady. He needs me right now."

Maria growled again. "He will not die! He needs me there when he wakes up!"

Before Friar Lawrence could retort, a pair of strong arms encircled his chest and he found himself sliding out of the ambulance. His feet hit the pavement hard, and even as his captor's arms worked to steady him, he found himself on his behind in a matter of seconds. Snarling, he discovered the culprit: the same paramedic who had called to him, and was now hopping into the back of the ambulance.

"Sorry, Father," the cheeky bastard called. "It's just…she's injured as well."

And with that, the white car sped away.

Angrily, Friar Lawrence stood up and straightened his clothes. "That horny little ape." Surveying the scene, he noticed that the second ambulance had left as well. Turning back to the church, he began to run, the chance for redemption forming in his brain.

* * *

_This is your shortest chapter yet, but I guess it's pretty important. Please, please PLEASE review!_

_A huge, ginormous GRAZIE to all my reviewers! I love you!_

_Curlz_


	8. The Visitation

_Hey, (not so) faithful readers. Sorry it took so long to update (if you care...), I've just been so swamped with school. I think it's fitting that I'm starting to wrap it up on Thanksgiving weekend, don't you? Well, enjoy this chapter, which is longer than the last two and pretty fluffy._

_Disclaimer: Due to the fact that I'm not the Stradford Grammar School, I don't own Shakespeare or any of his work. The plotline and Maria, however, is all mine._

* * *

The light immediately began to shrink back from the corners, leaving behind black in its place. Eventually, Benvolio stared at two twin white spots in the horizon before they, too, fizzled out, and he was left in darkness. The muscles of his eyes contracted, trying to make sense of the vision, and red shapes gradually began to form behind his eyelids, undulating, growing ever brighter until the strain on his eyes formed a crescendo into a pounding headache.

Finally, it became too much to take, and Benvolio pulled his eyelids open. The sunlight streaming into the room seemed to burn holes in his brain, and he snapped his eyes shut again. Now, he worked them open gradually, until he was able to tolerate the harsh glare. Gradually, he took note of his surroundings: pale blue walls, a small television, quite a few medical charts, beeping monitors, a grated window. Even as he discovered the tube that fed into his hand and up his nostrils, he couldn't process where he was.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Benvolio yawned, sucking in air through his mouth and nose like a beast, holding it in his chest for a few seconds before letting it slowly out. It felt wonderful; Benvolio's head cleared, and he realized what he smelt. It was a combination of bad food and a sterile environment, of stale air and a loss of hope. He was in a hospital.

Just now, he realized how weak he felt. His breath was ragged, his mouth hanging open. Each of his limbs seemed sunk in hardened wax, and he was sure he couldn't move them if he tried. Noticing that he was alone in the room, he tried to call out, but the most he managed was a thin whisper. His eyes showed him no call buttons, so he tried to content himself with lying there, waiting.

How had he ended up here? He racked his brains, but couldn't think of it. Frightened, he tried to imagine the recent events. Mercutio's and Romeo's death. His arrival at Princeton. Maria…

He wished his muscles would allow him to sit up. Maria. How had he forgotten about her, even for a second? They were coming home from Thanksgiving. Had he told her the tabooed story? Yes, he must have. They ended up at the Montague mansion. Then what? Had the family figured it out?

From that point on, he couldn't remember. He switched his train of thought to what could have put him into the hospital. A fight, maybe. A shooting, but that was impossible…the Montague guns were locked up. Besides, he could spot no wounds on his person. A car crash?

St. Peter's church. Maria in the seat beside him, crying. The needle of the speedometer rising steadily. The face of Gloria Capulet, not a second before the collision. These images flashed through his brain with frightening speed, and the whole memory of the night came bursting back to him. Was Maria ok? Was she even alive? He had to know. He hadn't notice the sped-up beeping of his heart monitor until two nurses sped into the room, their faces coldly efficient. They bustled around Benvolio, checking his vital signs, not noticing his open eyes until he spoke.

"Mah…ree…ah…" The nurses jumped off him, staring at him as though he were a ghost. However, their schooling had taught them how to recover quickly, so one of them continued with the examination while the other one leaned over Benvolio's bed and began to speak.

"Mr. Montague, my name's Claudia. You've been in a coma for two weeks. Don't worry, we'll call your family as soon as possible."

These words went over Benvolio's head. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Mari…ah…where…is…she?"

Claudia glanced at the other nurse, a worried look on her face. "Where's who, hon?"

"Maria." The effort had left Benvolio panting; he couldn't gather the wind for anything more.

"Maria?" ventured Claudia tentatively. Benvolio nodded gratefully. "Maria…Maria…" she muttered. "I'm not sure who you're talking about, hon, her name isn't in your file."

Benvolio rolled his eyes. The idiots. "Maria…Montya…in car."

"Oh, the other girl in the car!" The nurse smiled, relieved. "Well, she's perfectly fine, if that's what you're asking. She had a few bruised ribs, one cracked, but she was discharged from the hospital the next day."

Benvolio closed his eyes in relief. "Call her."

After dictating her cell number to them, which was a lengthy process, he sat in eager anticipation as the nurse dialled out from the hospital phone. It was the longest few seconds of his life. To his dismay, the nurse narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry, but it's long-distance, and we can't reach her from here," she said. "Do you have any idea where she'd be?"

The only place that Benvolio reasoned she'd go was back to Princeton. He supposed he could understand why she would need her friends at a time like this. Unless she had flown back to…Benvolio pushed this thought out of his mind as he dictated the number for her dorm phone.

"Hello, is Miss Montoya there?" Every fibre of Benvolio's being was jubilant as he waited to hear the muffled voice of the girl he loved emanating from the mouthpiece. However, he tensed up when Claudia's face fell.

"Oh, did she. Will she be returning soon? …Do you know where I may contact her? …I'm a nurse, her boyfriend's just emerged from a two-week coma. …Why would you say something like that? He's…" Claudia pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, her face long. Benvolio didn't need to hear the dial tone to know that Maria's roommates hated him, that they had hung up when they heard mention of him, that…and this though hurt him the most…that Maria had returned to Spain.

The nurses tried to talk to him, to ask him more questions, but he shook his head and closed his eyes. After making sure that he was just upset and not in danger, they tiptoed out of the room, allowing him to swim in his own grief.

It was clear that she wouldn't forgive him. He supposed that if she could leave while he was in the hospital, she felt nothing for him. Worse…she felt contempt for him. This was easy to imagine. Benvolio hated himself right now, with his useless old man's body. Once again, he vaguely mulled over what had happened to him, what injury had put him in this position. He got his answer when his eyes landed on a bedside calendar, the exposed page reading "December 8". So that was it; he'd been here for two full weeks.

An insurmountable lethargy spread over his body, and he found himself falling through layers of darkness. Refusing to fight anymore, he closed his eyes and waited for the sweet release of sleep…

A noise in the doorway jerked him out of his rest. He pulled his eyes open, surprised to discover that he didn't feel as fatigued as before. A doctor in a white lab coat was slipping through the door, followed by a pretty young nurse. They crowded their heads over a clipboard and had their backs turned away from Benvolio, so he couldn't see their faces, but something inside his gut contracted. Was it with excitement, or nervousness?

As one, the doctor and the nurse both turned to face him, and elation seemed to lift his spirit to the roof. He didn't know how, or why, but it was definitely the faces of Romeo and Juliet that smiled at him from across the room. Though it was difficult for Benvolio to speak, he couldn't have imagined what he would have said to them. His face was stretched thin with his smile, which his cousin and cousin-in-law gladly returned. They moved toward him and began an examination, and he trembling every time their hands grazed his skin. After writing a few notes on his clipboard, Romeo looked Benvolio in the eye and opened his mouth to speak.

"Benvolio Montague, is it. That was a close call. You almost died, you know. Almost died for the woman you love." Here, he glanced across the bed at Juliet, who blushed and smiled.

"There's something romantic about that," she said coquettishly. "You were willing to do anything for her."

Romeo rested his hands on the handrails and leaned across the bed to look into Benvolio's eyes. "Listen, everything isn't as it appears to be. Wait and see before doing something…rash." At this, Juliet pulled her hair back to tie a ponytail at the base of her head, and Benvolio gasped when an angry red gunshot wound at her left temple was exposed.

Another noise in the hallway disrupted the moment, and a black man with dreadlocks swaggered in, carrying a tray of food. This time, Benvolio was ready when the orderly turned toward him, revealing himself to be Mercutio. Although the situation was insane, he couldn't help but enjoy himself. The collapsible table folded out of the bed, and Mercutio set the tray down. On it was a turkey leg, a cup of stracciatella soup, and a scoop of tiramisu. With a mechanical hum, the bed folded to a near ninety-degree angle, and Benvolio found himself staring down at the Thanksgiving meal he had eaten only two weeks prior. The smells cut the sterile scent of hospital, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the moment. He was disturbed, however, when Mercutio began to laugh.

"Well, don't we have a Buddha here," he chortled. Romeo sighed.

"Didn't I tell you he wasn't ready for solids yet?"

"I think you're underestimating him, doctor," interjected Juliet. "He seems very fit. Maybe, at this point, its just sorrow that's weighing him down."

"I agree." Mercutio reached down to pick a raspberry off the tiramisu and chewed it thoughtfully. "Two weeks, no sex. I'd be crying."

Juliet raised her eyebrows at him and pursed her lips, telling him to sober up or shut up. Mercutio, however, didn't need this hint. "I know, man," he said, his voice sombre for once. The effect was almost frightening; the only time Mercutio had ever in his life been serious was when he was hysterical and in his death throes.

"We all do," said Romeo. "That's why we—the hospital staff—are here to help you."

Benvolio couldn't understand the game they were playing. He tried to think of something to say, but drew a blank. Not a second had passed, however, before a yellow bucket was wheeled into the room, followed by a dark, surly man wielding a mop. He gave one disgruntled glance at the occupants of the room, but said nothing and angrily slapped the mop against the floor. Juliet tried to catch her cousin's eye and smile, Tybalt refused to look at her, and the four of them stared awkwardly at the man who had been the catalyst of the deaths of Romeo, Juliet and Mercutio.

Finally, Benvolio's curiosity seized him. "What have you heard recently about Maria Montoya?" He was surprised at how easy it was to talk now; he didn't feel short of breath in the slightest. However, he wasn't sure he'd been heard. Tybalt continued to attack the floor like he was trying to erase the word "Montague" from it.

"I believe Mr. Montague asked you a question, sir," muttered Romeo, whose voice was surprisingly without emotion.

Tybalt stopped in his track and leaned on the mop. "What if I don't got no answer for him?"

Predictably, Mercutio giggled. "You don't got no sense of grammar neither."

Tybalt looked like he was about to retaliate, but resumed mopping instead. Surprisingly, he began to speak. "I don't know anything for sure, MISTER Montague. But if I've heard that she doesn't have room for hate."

Benvolio sighed, a tiny ray of hope building in his body. Then he smirked: "I think I have an idea about how well you two know each other."

Mercutio followed up by putting on a fake announcer's voice. "B.I.M.I.B, promoting familial love since 1876."

"Haha." Tybalt didn't try to defend himself, just rolled his eyes as he rang out his mop.

Resuming the professional air again, Romeo clipped Benvolio's chart to the edge of the bed. "So, Mr. Montague, that'll be about a week of bed rest, minimum, followed by some physiotherapy, and a long trip to Barcelona. Stress and worry is prohibited."

At that moment, something changed in the room, like everybody had dropped the game. One by one, Romeo, Juliet and Mercutio all knelt to give Benvolio a hug and a kiss. Tybalt approached gingerly and shook his hand. All at once, emotion bubbled to the surface. "But…how?" he whispered. "It's amazing, but I don't understand." He brushed his tears away with his hand, and when he looked up, he saw the equally emotional and shining eyes of each of the people in the room. Even Tybalt looked somewhat sober. Tenderly, Romeo held Benvolio's hand, Juliet pressed her lips to his cheek, and Mercutio patted his leg. "At least you made it out alive," he joked. "Don't stop now."

The familiar tugs of sleep pulled on Benvolio's eyelids, but he fought it, willing this moment to last forever. Every time he blinked, his eyelids felt heavier, until they remained closed. The last thing we heard was the distant call of Romeo's voice: "Say hi to everybody for us". Benvolio could still feel the presence of their bodies in his room, and he wrenched his eyes open.

This time, he knew he was really waking up. His body was heavier, and he knew that his lungs couldn't support normal speech. His father gripped his hand, as Romeo had been doing; his mother was kissing his cheek; and Alessia's hand rested on his leg. He moved his head, trying to dislodge the cloud that had formed in it. Noticing his movement, his dad's eyes widened and he looked into Benvolio's eyes. "Honey…honey…"

As Mrs. Montague filled her lungs to prepare for her oncoming shriek of joy, Benvolio shut his eyes for a few more seconds and held his breath. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

_While I was writing this, I was just imagining how awkward it would be to come out of a coma...everyone's gushing, you can barely talk or move, you have tubes up your nose and all you want to do is sleep. I'd think it'd suck._

_Curlz_


	9. Sinking In

_WHEE! I got a review! Many kisses to Marah, who has now dropped me two...count 'em, TWO reviews in a row! So, this chapter may be a step back but it's important._

_All the words in italics are meant to be in Spanish._

_Disclaimer: Puffy shorts does not Will Shakespeare make. Ergo, I don't own any of this. (Not saying I have a fetish for puffy shorts either...)_

* * *

The phone beside Maria's bed rang. Sighing, she set down her book and leaned over to check the display panel, but all it said was "Long Distance". Worried that it was another telemarketer, she resumed reading and waited until the machine picked it up. 

"Hi…is this Maria Montoya?" the muffled voice asked. Maria hadn't heard English in a while. Apprehensive, she lowered her book once again. "Well, this is Alessia Montague. I don't know if you…well, you said to call this number if there was any news, and I thought I should tell you that Benvolio's awake, and the doctors said he's going to be fine. So…I'm not sure what you're going to do with that information. Don't worry, I didn't tell Benvolio that I was calling you, so you don't need to feel…obliged…to do anything. Ok…bye."

A few more seconds of white noise was followed by a decisive click, and Maria was left paralyzed with shock.

* * *

The ambulance ride had been terrible. The injury on Benvolio's head was a bloody, circular mound, two inches across, right on his left temple. The ventilator they installed in him kept his lungs working, but the sight of him weakened like that broke Maria's heart. At one point, the heart monitor seemed to be going haywire. There was chaos as the paramedic applied the defibrillator to Benvolio's chest, and Maria yelped as she heard the electric shock rocket through his body. She felt so helpless; there was nothing she could do to save him. To make matters worse, every time the ambulance went over a bump, the pain in her ribs intensified. It was all she could do not to weep like a baby. 

At the hospital, they wasted no time in shunting Benvolio into the ICU. Maria had lied through her teeth to the nurses on staff, claiming to be Benvolio's fiancée, but she was still denied access. She drew in a breath, preparing to scream at the woman until they let her in, but the pressure on her ribs nearly brought her to the floor in pain, and she was carted off to an examination room.

Once they had her social security number, it didn't take long for them to discover that she was in the States on a student's visa. Since she had left her purse containing all her ID and money at the Montague mansion and she refused to go back, a call to the Spanish Embassy was required. The operator on the phone wasted no time in contacting her parents, who immediately called the hospital, demanding to speak to her. It took the promise of a very large donation, but finally, the hospital staff provided Maria with a private room (really more of a utility closed) and a phone to complete the call. Maria hadn't even put the earpiece fully to her ear before her mother's panicked voice bored into her brain.

"_My darling, what happened to you?"_ she wailed. _"Are you all right? Do you want to come home?"_

Maria could barely speak with the emotion she felt at hearing a loving voice. _"Mama, I'm ok,"_ she whispered. _"I'll be fine, it's just a cracked rib or two."_ This didn't seem to help matters; Señora Montoya only became more hysterical.

"_Where are you, baby? Where is this Verona?"_

"_It's in…"_ Maria took a breath. _"It's in Florida. I was here with my boyfriend for Thanksgiving."_

"_Your…boyfriend?" _she said tentatively. _"I haven't heard about him. I don't even know if he's any good. And who said you could go to Florida?"_

"_I'm sorry, Mama, I just never got around to telling you…" _The truth was, Maria had known all along that there was something forbidden about Ben, she just hadn't been able to pinpoint it until earlier today. _"He's a really good guy."_

"_Well? Is his family nice?"_

Maria couldn't help it. This question seemed to have broken a dam, and Maria wept with wild abandon. She found herself babbling, spilling out more information than she had intended. _"Mama, it was awful. I love him so much, but he's a Montague and I'm a Montoya and I should have known it would never have worked out. He offered to put me on a plane home when he found out and I should have gone. It's my fault he's in there. Oh Mama, I'm so sorry. I feel like such an idiot. His family hates me and I don't think they'll ever let me see him again! I just want to come home…"_

As Maria fought for control, her mother seemed to be quieting. Finally, her voice rang through the line, monotone but deadly. _"Your boyfriend is…a Montague?"_

Maria's throat seemed to clench. _"Yes."_

"_Your boyfriend is a Montague?"_

"_Yes, Mama."_

Then, blasting through the phone came a rugged male voice, screaming across the Atlantic Ocean. _"YOU WERE INVOLVED WITH A MONTAGUE!"_

Maria was now shaking with fear. _"Papa, I'm sorry, I didn't know!"_

"_You don't give a shit about your family!"_

"_Papa, please, I didn't know!"_

"_HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE KNOWN?"_

"_PLEASE!"_

The silence across the line was deafening. Finally, icily and dangerously, her father's voice crept across the line.

"_I will be in New Jersey in three days, Maria. In that time, you must return to your University and pack your bags. I will then set about withdrawing you from Princeton, and we will return home together. If you are not there, I will call the police and have them find you. If I need to take this measure, it will be a very difficult few years ahead for you. Do you understand me?"_

Maria tried to push the tremor out of her voice. _"Papa, I need to stay here. My boyfriend is horribly injured."_

"_Your boyfriend has caused my daughter to be injured."_

"_It wasn't his fault!"_

"_AND he is the son of snakes!"_

"_He is not a snake!" _An angry flush spread through her, causing her to forget her fear.

"_And you defend him," _he muttered incredulous.

"_I love him."_ Even Maria was surprised at the conviction with which she spoke these words; yet she felt they were true.

"_Three days,"_ whispered her father. Then, the line went dead.

The harsh light of the corridor was piercing after the gloom of the closet. Maria passed the phone to a bustling orderly and began to walk towards the front, drifting like a ghost. She took a seat in a green plastic chair. A family burst in through the doorway, and Maria looked up to see Giorgio Montague racing towards the check-in desk. Lisa, Alessia, Sampson and Caroline started after him, but Gregory held back, staring at Maria. Gradually, everyone else caught on. Feeling vulnerable, she stood up, but made no movement forward.

It was Caroline who initiated contact. She didn't look angry; in fact, she looked sympathetic. But what came out of her mouth next shocked Maria.

"You'd better go."

Maria stood there, stunned, humiliated once again. "Go where?"

"Away. I don't care." Alessia looked like she was going to protest, but held her tongue.

Maria bit back a sob; she wasn't going to cry in front of these people. "Ok. It might be for the best." She turned towards the door, trying to salvage her dignity, but felt something soft and cool being nudged against her arm. While the rest of the family followed an orderly down the hall, Alessia held out Maria's purse. Maria took it tentatively, then flipped it open and scribbled something on a notepad. Tearing off a page, she held it out to Alessia. "You tell me if anything happens."

For a moment, it looked like Alessia would walk away without taking it. But at the last minute, she snatched the paper, crumpled it and shoved it deep into her jeans pocket. A look of understanding passed between the two girls; then, Alessia was standing with her family, and Maria wasn't sure if the exchange had even happened. Shouldering her recovered purse, she exited the hospital, leaving behind a small piece of her heart.

It hadn't been hard to secure a ticket back to New Jersey at this hour of the night. The ride passed quickly, Maria thinking all the while about whether she would ever see Benvolio again. Her roommates had been horrified when Maria stumbled through the door at six o'clock the next morning, exhausted and tearstained. She had not been able to bring herself to repeat the whole story, answering their questions as simply as possible: that the family hadn't turned out as she had hoped; Ben wasn't the man she had though he was; she wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again; her father was coming to collect her in three days. Then she had retreated upstairs and tried to drown the past day in a hot bath before collapsing into the bed, losing herself in a dream-poisoned sleep until well into the afternoon. Sarah and Jess spend the next two days tiptoeing around Maria, who stayed in her room most of the time, except for when she emerged in her biggest and least sexy Princeton varsity wear to restock on chocolate.

Finally, on the Wednesday after Thanksgiving, a knock came at the door. Sarah opened it to uncover a tall, thin Hispanic man in a black travelling suit.

"_Hola…_I am Señor Montoya. Is my daughter here?"

This man was intimidating, but there was clearly a glimmer of Maria in his face. Had Sarah not seen it, she would have slammed the door in his face. As it was, she stepped back and invited him into the hallway. Tentatively, she turned away from him. "Mare? It's your…"

"_Hola, Papa." _Maria rounded the corner, rolling a much larger version of the pink Burberry overnight case she had brought to Verona Beach and subsequently left behind.

The hardened look on her father's face dropped for an instant, but slammed back up all too soon. "Say your good-byes, and we'll be on our way to the hotel."

Jess had now joined them in the hall. The farewells were strained; Sarah and Jess were clearly devastated that Maria was leaving, but Maria didn't seem to care. They toyed with the idea of accompanying her down to the lobby, but dropped it; they could see that Maria didn't need them anymore.

The room at the Hilton that her dad had booked was the deluxe suite, quite over-the-top for the two of them. The only real luxury it afforded Maria was the fact that she barely had to see her father all through Thursday and Friday. Instead, she ordered everything chocolate she could find on the room service menu and steadily worked her way through the hotel's repertoire of movies, from _Sophie's Choice_ to _Sleepless in Seattle_ to _Interview with a Vampire_ to _The Hunchback of Notre Dame._ All of it she watched with a blank stare, willing her mind to cloud over with white noise so she didn't have to swim in the humiliation and grief.

Finally, on Friday night, her father called her into the dining room. He had ordered up salmon for the two of them, a meal that would normally have been Maria's favourite. They silently began to eat, avoiding each other's eye. Finally, Maria dropped her fork onto her plate. It clattered loudly, and her father looked up, startled.

"_Why do I have to go?"_ Maria half shouted.

Her father sighed. _"After what happened, it's best that you don't stay. You haven't proven yourself to be trustworthy."_

"_Papa, I'm an adult. I think you'll find that I can make my own decisions."_

"_How can I trust you to make the right ones?"_

Maria glared. _"You could start by pretending to trust me; maybe it'll grow on you."_

"_Also, now there's a safety risk. The Montague's know that there's a Montoya in the country. Who knows what they'll do to get to me through you."_

Maria was shocked. _"You don't know them."_

"_And you do?"_

She almost agreed, but stopped herself. _"They wouldn't harm a woman, and they most certainly wouldn't harm me."_

"_How can you be sure?"_

Maria glared at her salmon. _"I just am."_

The conversation had taken them nowhere. The next morning, they boarded a plane headed for Barcelona. As soon as she could, Maria curled herself into the chair, jammed her Discman headphones into her ears and pretended to sleep.

The following week and a half had passed in the same manner. Maria stayed in her room, watched movies and slept at odd times. Her mother had tried to talk to her, but Maria would volunteer only one-word answers and shrugs, and Mrs. Montoya had eventually given up. So many times, Maria asked herself why she had allowed her father to take her home, but came up with the same answer: she couldn't face normal life in the US. So many times, she pondered the possibility of sneaking out of the house and flying herself to Verona, but talked herself out of it when she remembered how the family had stood there and demanded that she leave the hospital. So many times, she picked up the phone in her room, needing to know what was going on, but never followed through. She knew her phone was being monitored. The days passed, sometimes painfully slowly, sometimes unbelievably fast, until Alessia had called and left her message.

* * *

Maria stared at the phone, her heart beating madly. She didn't know what to think. Then, she sprang into action. Her finger came down hard on the playback button and she held her ear inches away from the speaker. As Alessia's voice once again filled the room, Maria began to cry, resting her head on her hands. She wasn't sure what to feel: overjoyed that Benvolio was alive and well? Angry that she would never be allowed to go see him? She snatched up the phone to press the redial button, but slammed it down before the call was put through.

Would Benvolio even want to see her? She had left him when he had needed her the most. She wouldn't want to see herself. Judging by Alessia's reserved tone, the family's opinion of her hadn't changed. For the first time in two weeks, she was honest with herself: she could have stayed. She was a twenty-one-year-old woman, and fully legal in the United States. Her parents had no right to control her. She could have made her own decisions. Maria cursed her cowardice. What had happened to her? What had happened to all the conviction she had exhibited in Verona Beach?

Flopping back onto her pillow, she poured out everything. She couldn't believe how much she had cried in the past month alone, and yet here she was again, crying herself once again into a state where she could remain as still as a stone for hours, thinking of nothing, lost a wave of white noise, wishing she could wake up in Benvolio's bed and find that it had all been a dream.

* * *

_Oi, even I'm getting irritated at how much Maria's crying. But, it is necessary._

_Review!_

_Curlz _


	10. Therapy

_Something creepy happened as I was uploading the last chapter (9). When it asks for the document tag, normally I just bang out some gibberish...it's not really important to my life. But as I jerked my fingers to put some random letters into the bar, you'll never guess what I pressed: rj. R+J. Romeo + Juliet. If that's not creepy I don't know what is._

_What else..._

_Oh yeah, enjoy and review._

_I LOVE MARAH._

* * *

Claudia bounced into Benvolio's room and flung the curtains open; sunlight streamed in. Benvolio squirmed in his bed and stretched, irritated, refusing to open his eyes. Claudia stood over him, clearly intent on standing there until he responded. Grudgingly, he peered up at her. "What are you on?"

Claudia rolled her eyes. "It's Wednesday. Time to go, hon! Let's see if we can get you ready before breakfast."

Benvolio grunted. "What is this 'we'?"

Claudia ignored him. "I assume we're packed?" Even as she spoke, she glanced around the room, which was in a state of disaster. Staring pointedly at him, she picked up a duffle bag and began to cram things into it.

Benvolio kicked the covers off and sat up. It had been a little quick; stars exploded in front of his eyes and he was forced to lie back down. After having recovered, he rose—slowly—and shuffled over to where Claudia stood, smiling infuriatingly, as always. He snatched the bag from her, slumped into a chair and started to arrange his prized possessions into a more respectful pattern. Satisfied that she had got him out of bed, Claudia knelt beside him and started checking his vital signs. Contented, she roughly straightened out the sheets, and laid the clothes that Benvolio had handed her on the top. Benvolio then laboriously removed his oversized concert T-shirt and stood up next to her.

"Claudia, when I get back to school—"

"School?" The nurse looked at him uneasily. "Honey, I think you'll need to forgo this semester at least. Maybe even the whole year."

"The year?" Benvolio was bewildered. "But I'll only have missed three weeks. I'll just explain what happened to the Profs, they'll understand, I'm sure they will."

"And therein lies the problem," Claudia interjected. "I don't know where you got 'three weeks' from…"

"Well, it's been two and a half weeks since the accident, right? And there was still a day left to the break. Then, by the time I get my stuff, get there and get settled, it'll bring it up to three weeks." Benvolio paused.

"Wait, I was only in the coma for two weeks, right?"

"Yeah, but Benvolio, you've still got a month of physiotherapy."

A month? Shit. "Can't I get physio anywhere?"

"You're only insured for the state of Florida."

"Come on!"

"Plus, and I hate to have to say this, but…" Claudia paused, unsure of how to word it. "You'll be…dependant…for a while."

Benvolio blinked. "What?"

To her credit, Claudia looked supremely uncomfortable. "Well…listen, Ben, you're doing great. You've recovered faster than anyone expected. But look at you…you have trouble walking, which is totally normal. And I'm sorry, I know you feel great and that I sound like a bitch, but I don't think the hospital or the insurance company or your family or even the school would let you live alone in your state."

This last piece was too much for Benvolio, and he almost sat on the bed. But Claudia's words…_You can barely walk_…they rang in his head. Glaring, he pulled himself back into his T-shirt and walked towards the door of the room. He began confidently, his strides nearly a meter long. Then his heart began to pound, his breaths shortened, and he found himself slowing down, the stars exploding in his head once more. By the time he had reached the halfway mark, he wanted to stop, but he forged ahead. The door seemed to stretch into the distance as his steps brought him less far each time. He felt like he had run a marathon at his point. Before he had expected it, the solid wood of the door met his exhausted body, and he slumped against it, willing the spinning in his head to pass. Tears leaked out of his eyes, from exhaustion, embarrassment, anger, and any other emotion he could think of. He felt Claudia's reassuring hands on his shoulder as she supported him back to the bed, and he lowered himself onto it, lost in thinking of something he had blocked from his mind this past seventy-two hours.

How would she react to him in this state, barely able to do something as simple as walking across the room? Unconsciously, he began to change his clothes, aided by Claudia. She would never accept him like this. Claudia said a month; he, Benvolio, said three weeks. He was going to force himself to become just as strong, if not stronger, than the old Benvolio.

It was still difficult to be in the same room as his family. Thankfully, they had abstained from an awkward Welcome Home party, but hadn't been able to resist the colorful banner in the foyer. They had prepared a room on the ground floor, but Benvolio would have none of living in such a public spot. The rarely used elevator was now a blessing, but Benvolio still needed the help of Alessia, the only one he allowed to accompany him, to make it to his room.

From his duffle bag, he extracted the home physio schedule and the bag of equipment. He glanced down the exercises and almost scoffed their simplicity, but he sobered up quickly. _Lying on your back, bend your knees and place your feet a foot away from the buttocks. Without moving the thigh, raise one calf as far as it may go. Repeat until exhaustion. Switch legs_. Benvolio followed the instructions, but was horrified to find thathe could barely raise his calf up to ninety degrees. Gritting his teeth,he repeated the exercise until his whole right leg ached, until it shook,until he could not contract the muscle. Gritting his teeth, he positionedthe leg with his hands and commenced the exercise with his other leg.

Fifteen minutes later, he lay on his bed, nearly moaning in pain. He could barely twitch a finger because of his exhaustion. Yet even as he mourned his body's loss of strength, a smile played around his lips. Even though it wasn't recommended that he do these exercises more than once a day, he promised himself that he'd do them twice—one in the morning, one before he slept. He would kill himself to make himself stronger.

A soft knock at the door disturbed his thoughts. "Uh…come in?" Benvolio ventured, unused to such privacy.

The door swung open slowly, revealing Alessia holding a food tray. "What happened to you?" she asked, almost sarcastically.

Benvolio realized he was sweating. "I was…exercising."

Alessia set the tray down on his desk. "Exercising? How?"

"Never mind." He swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up, his muscles still unsteady. Alessia jumped to help him, but he held up a hand and continued on his own. The smell of home cooking was heaven to him. Eagerly, he dug in, but stopped when he felt Alessia's eyes on him. He spun his chair around and returned the gaze. "What?"

Alessia averted her eyes and smiled. "Nothing."

"What?"

"Well, you look really good. Considering."

Benvolio fingered the hideous yellow and purple bruise, covered by a line of stitches, at his temple. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Alessia shrugged. "Happy. Not depressed."

Benvolio rolled his eyes. "Oh. Subtle, Lessi."

"Sorry."

An awkward silence descended between brother and sister. Benvolio tried to eat, but eventually curiosity rose in him like a wild beast. "Why did she leave?" he blurted. Immediately, he regretted it. "I'm sorry. Forget I said that."

"Well, I've been meaning to—"

"FORGET IT!" Alessia leapt back, shocked.

"Oh, Ben…"

Benvolio's clenched fist came down hard on the desktop. "Don't call me that."

Alessia was distraught, but she tried to inject some sarcasm into her breaking voice. "Fine. I'm sorry for mentioning it." Without waiting for the tray, she turned her back and walked towards the door in a huff. Before she reached it, she nearly turned and said something, but evidentially thought better of it.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Benvolio dropped his head into his hand. What had happened to her "I love you"? Clearly, it had been a lie.

But it hadn't. He knew that she had loved him. He didn't know why she had left, but he couldn't believe that it was her fault.

All things aside, Benvolio was tired. He was tired of treading around his family's ego. He was tired of worrying about the possibility of dying. He was tired of constantly being ashamed because he felt like he had failed Romeo. And he was tired of knowing the right thing to do, but never doing it until now. The phone appeared in his hand and his fingers found the keys 4-1-1. He waited for the electronic voice of the operator to engage, his heart fluttering, his brain whizzing with plans.

"Welcome to 411 directory assistance. Please state your city."

"Vero—"

"Hey, Kenobi."

The tentative voice in the doorway caused Benvolio to jump out of his skin. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

Sampson and Gregory looked unimaginably uncomfortable. "We thought we'd drop by."

"Your mother said it was okay to come up."

Grudgingly, Benvolio hung up the phone. "So…how's it going?"

"Good, good."

Sampson shifted. "Were you just on the phone?"

Benvolio stared at the cordless phone still clutched in his hand. "No."

"So…" Gregory ventured. "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

Gregory's eyes widened with excitement. "You know, being in a coma! Did you dream? Was it a, what do you call it, a near-death experience?"

Benvolio stared blankly at his cousin. What the hell kind of question was that? "I don't remember. I was asleep at the time."

They both seemed satisfied with that answer. Sam finally approached the desk and leaned over Benvolio's shoulder to peer at the tray of food.

"What do you have there?"

"Uh…" The food was barely touched, but Benvolio was sure he couldn't eat another bite. "Looks like a paninni, a glass of water and a bowl of salad. You can finish it."

Sampson wasted no time in snatching the tray up. "Thanks, man!" He paused, looked over Benvolio and set the tray back down. "You should probably eat this. You look awful."

Benvolio glanced at the mirror and saw what he had been looking at since he woke up: a white, sallow face with sunken cheeks, dark circles under the eyes and limp hair. "I couldn't eat any more if I tried."

Sampson shrugged. "Okay." He tore into the pannini eagerly.

"So, we were about to head down to Sycamore Grove," Gregory put in. "We're meeting Rosaline there, and she's bringing friends from her chastity group! You know Rosaline's friends, eh?"

"Are you serious."

"Yeah, man!"

"Fully!"

Benvolio started to see red. He was breathing like a bull on the attack. "It is because of Rosaline that you are short one cousin, you assholes."

"Uh, Kenobi, if you want to come with us all you have to do is say so."

Benvolio stood up, but dropped back into his chair. "Aside from the fact that I can't WALK, I will never go back to that place, not in my life. The ground is still wet from Mercutio's blood and Romeo's tears." He started to shake slightly with rage. "If you go there to cavort with those whores, I'll NEVER…" Benvolio felt his heart fluttering madly, and attempted to even out his breaths. "Get out."

They didn't need telling twice.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, Benvolio's hand closed once again around the phone. He felt Romeo tugging on his heartstrings as he redialed.

"Welcome to 411 directory assistance. Please state your city."

"Verona Beach."

"Please state the name of the person or business you are looking for."

Benvolio paused for a bit before deciding what to say. "Southside Travel Agency."

A long pause followed. Benvolio was worried that the line had been dropped and was relieved to once again hear the digitalized female voice.

"The number is: 9057642953. Please stand by. And operator will be completing your call."

With each ring of the phone, Benvolio's mood lifted a little further.

Finally, someone picked up.

"Southside Travel Agency, how may I help you?" cooed a soft female voice.

Benvolio wanted to reach through the phone and hug her; she had no idea how well she could help him.

"I would like to book a ticket to Barcelona for January first."

"Business or economy class?"

"Whatever's available."

"I have two flights available on that day, a Pan Am with…"

"I truly don't care," he interjected. "Just get me there as soon as possible."

* * *

FULGENCIO CAPULET: GUILTY

Yesterday, the trial of real estate magnate Fulgencio Capulet ended with the voting the accused guilty of rape and other sexual abuse. The judge has sentenced Capulet to ten years in prison, with chance of parole at five years.

"I'm so glad he's finally received a taste of justice," commented Christine Vasquez, personal maid to Mrs. Capulet and one of Mr. Capulet's victims. "He had told me many times that his connections in the law enforcement offices would make it easy to know if I reported him." Here, Ms. Vasquez paused, overcome with emotion.

According to witness accounts, Mr. Capulet had been regularly mildly harassing the female members of the household staff ever since the beginning of their employment, the longest being ten years. However, these women never felt threatened by his comments or gestures, and deemed it unnecessary to alert authorities.

Around 1996, after the death of his only daughter Juliet, Mr. Capulet began to increase the intensity of his habits. It began with more personal touching, but when his victims complained, he would threaten them to keep silent. A few months later, he raped Ms. Vasquez. He made it a daily ritual, rotating his victims. He had them all under an oath of silence, stressing that he had the Verona Beach law enforcement and a great deal of trained marksmen on his side. _See CAPULET on page A8_.

* * *

_Ahhhh...I just realized that I need to wrap up Gloria's story too. What was I thinking, sticking her in there? But didn't you love the article?_

_Review._

_Curlz_


	11. Patient

There's no reason for me to be here, Gloria mused as she waited for the doctor. I know everything he's going to tell me. I'm filled with guilt over her death, and the car accident. I hate my husband, and am resentful about the time I wasted being married to him. Oh, and I'm finding it difficult to cope with my hideousness. There, I've completed the diagnosis. What else is there to do?

Gloria had remained in the hospital for four days after the accident. Out of necessity, she was released, but had to remain in Verona for her daily check-ups. Fulgencio had been arrested and denied bail, so the house of Capulet was somewhat safe, but Gloria still hated every minute she spent inside that prison. After a month, her stitches had been removed and she was given permission to leave. Her sister Victoria in New York was the only person she felt she could trust, and her posh flat provided the perfect place to recuperate.

Not that recuperation was possible.

After hearing Gloria's story in full (which, once again, had not been published in any national newspapers—Fulgencio's grip on the press had not diminished), Vicky practically forced Gloria into seeing her shrink. Maybe "Forced" wasn't the right word; Vicky had strongly suggested, and Gloria had relented. She hadn't had the energy to put up a fight. In fact, she had supposed that the appointment would have benefited. But now, as footsteps sounded down the hall, Gloria began to regret her decision. No person could ever understand the scenario, whatever they said. And it was inconsiderate even to try.

But Gloria pushed these thoughts out of her mind as the doctor entered the room. He had aged gracefully. His face was angular and rugged-looking, his hair was a rich salt-and-pepper, and his smile when he walked in put Gloria at ease immediately. It wasn't a mushy-sympathetic smile, soft with upturned eyebrows, and thank God: Gloria had seen far too much of that. This smile was prompt, acknowledging her as a person who was capable of more emotions than grief and attempted happiness. Yet something about his face told her that he respected everything she was going through not as something tangible to which a name could be applied, but as a part of her. They stood up and exchanged greetings, Dr. Barton acting very professional, yet friendly. Before he could begin, Gloria interjected.

"Mr. Barton, I think this will be the last session. I know what my problem is and I don't think there's a way to solve it."

"If you think it's best, Mrs. Capulet," he agreed. At the sound of her married name, though, Gloria burst into tears.

Dr. Barton barely reacted. Instead, he leaned slightly more forward in his chair and waited patiently for Gloria to gain control.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently after her sobs began to subside.

"Please…call me Gloria," she hiccupped.

"Gloria," he repeated. "Talk to me."

Her lip trembled once again. "Well, I just hate being associated with my husband's name."

"Why?"

"Because I hate him."

Dr. Barton looked a bit taken aback, but recovered quickly. "And why is that?"

Gloria's face softened. "You haven't heard."

"No."

Gloria hesitated, testing the waters before deciding to take the plunge.

"Dr. Barton, if your father's final act was to force you into marriage with a man twice as old as you were who oppressed you your entire life, drove your only child to suicide, and raped all the household staff, how would you feel towards him?"

"My father or my husband?"

Gloria blinked as she realized where this was going. "Both, I guess."

"I would hate my father more than my husband."

Gloria sighed impatiently. "But you would still hate your husband?"

"Yes, I suppose. Gloria, tell me about your child."

"Juliet. Well, she was beautiful. How unfortunate that she was born to me. I loved her so much…I just didn't know how to love her like she wanted to be loved."

The session passed in much the same manner. One minute, Gloria would drown in tears at the mildest nostalgia, like the costume Juliet had worn to the masquerade, but in the next she could recount the most horrible events in a perfectly monotone voice. Dr. Barton barely had to say anything. It was the first time Gloria had relived the events in their entirety, and Dr. Barton was the first who had heard her full story. By the end of the session, Gloria felt as though someone else had validated her grief and guilt, and that realization lessened her pain. Finally, her voice trailed off, and doctor and patient sat in silence for a full minute.

"Mrs. Capulet, the story you have told me is one of the most tragic I have ever heard," intoned Dr. Barton softly. "I can't diagnose you for it. If you will, I'd recommend that you continue to come to me regularly, but this is your choice."

Gloria's earlier resolve to never return to this office began to melt away at Dr. Barton's non-forceful prescription. She found herself nodding at his suggestion to make an appointment with the secretary, and surprised herself by actually booking another. Vicki was waiting for her in the lobby and started at the sight of Gloria's tearstained face, but smiled as she noticed a lack of the darkness that had enveloped her sister's body since her arrival in New York. Silently, they descended the escalator and hailed a cab.

* * *

Benvolio loved walking into the physiotherapist's alone. He may have looked like a heroin addict, all skinny and pale and awkward, but at least he wasn't on crutches or a wheelchair. His family still refused to let him take public transportation and his licence had been revoked since the accident, but as long as he could march in on his own two feet, who cared who drove him over?

Subconsciously, he smirked at a teenager leaning on his mother for support before making his presence known to the secretary and settling into a waiting room chair to read a magazine. It was a National Geographic, and the only reason he had chosen it was because it featured an article about a new archaeological discovery near Madrid. Since booking the flight, Spain had become Benvolio's obsession.

Dr. Lania marvelled once again over Benvolio's progress after three days. "What on earth have you been doing?" she asked, somewhat unprofessionally. "It normally takes two weeks to achieve what you've achieved!" And once again, Benvolio shrugged.

"I've just been doing those exercises you prescribed," he said. He neglected to mention that he did them for hours on end every day. "And I guess I've been eating well."

"Yes, well that can help," muttered Dr. Lania, as though trying to convince herself that his diet was the reason for his progress. "Well, Benvolio, you know the drill."

"Dr. Lania, if I keep improving at this rate, how much longer will I need to do this?"

Seconds dragged by like minutes as Dr. Lania looked over his body and consulted a clipboard, but both of them knew she was just stalling, mulling over whether what she was about to say was right or not. Finally, she made a decision.

"You would promise to do your exercises every day?"

"I promise."

"And you would never overwork yourself?"

"I…" Benvolio couldn't bring himself to promise. "…Won't."

"Then really…" Dr. Lania pretended to scan her clipboard once more. "I'd only need to see you for three more days."

The smile on Benvolio's face could have warmed the heart of the Devil himself.

Those next three days, Benvolio killed himself. Every morning, he'd stretch first before eating a light breakfast. Then, he'd "work out" in his room, repeating every one of Dr. Lania's exercises until he could not find the strength to do one single repetition. He would then stretch again and make his way downstairs for breakfast, which he gobbled hungrily, forcing himself to finish every last crumb on his plate. At his physiotherapy session, he would hit the hammer and convince Dr. Lania to raise the difficulty level of the exercises, which she would generally do. Then, it was to home, where he'd have a snack, work out, and eat lunch. He would exercise frequently in the afternoon, but pounded himself out before dinner. Then, after a shower, he would collapse into bed, assuring that he got plenty of sleep before beginning the next day feeling stronger than the last. It seemed almost hourly that he regained some more of the old Benvolio's swagger and confidence.

The day that Dr. Lania pronounced him physically able was the day that Benvolio insisted on making his way to the office alone. Though there was no visible muscle on his body, he felt as strong as an ox. There was no way he was being dropped off today like a kindergartener, and he said as much as soon as he bid good morning to his mother.

"But Benvolio, how will you get there?" she asked. "You know you can't drive."

Benvolio rolled his eyes; why was everybody either tiptoeing around him, or shoving sad facts into his face? "I know, Mom. You know, there are ways to get from point A to point B without driving."

Lisa clutched the breakfast table. "I hope you're not talking about walking. Benvolio, that office is right downtown. Even a healthy person couldn't…"

"Mom!"

"Sorry, Benvolio, but you can't deny that you aren't in exactly peak physical condition."

Benvolio bit back a retort. "There's a bus leaving at ten o'clock."

Predictably, Lisa shrank back in her chair. Alessia appeared in the doorway of the breakfast room, but immediately turned and walked away when she realized the confrontation occurring. "Benvolio Montague, you are asking me to allow you to take public transportation?"

"More like letting you know that I _will_ be taking public transportation. Or is that too low-class for you?"

Lisa grimaced. "Benvolio, I'm just saying that if one can afford it, one should travel in the most comfortable way possible."

"And I'm just saying that there's too many fossil fuels in the atmosphere already," he said. Then he stood up and stuffed his wallet in his jeans. "I hate to eat and run, but I have a bus to catch."

With that, he strode towards the door, ignoring his mother's rants echoing down the hall.

* * *

"Dr. Lania, I took a bus here. I walked two blocks to catch it, and then I walked one block to get here. I stood the whole ride over. Sure, I'm a little tired, but I feel great. I think that qualifies me as 'able bodied', and frankly, I don't think my insurance company would cover any more physio."

Dr. Lania ran her hands through her hair. "I don't know, Benvolio. I still think it's been too short of a time. I'm not sure you could up and run a marathon."

"Do you know many people who could?"

The doctor laughed in spite of herself. "No, I guess not."

Benvolio paused for a few seconds, measuring the situation. When he spoke, it was with trepidation. "I have less than a month to get in shape, or to at least look good. I don't think I need a physiotherapist. I need a personal trainer, someone who will work me harder than I've ever worked myself. I don't know anybody who will fit that position." He flicked his eyes up to meet Dr. Lania's. "This is where you come in."

Dr. Lania blinked, looking uncomfortable. "Do you need some numbers? I think I know a few people who would do it…"

"So do I," he interjected. "But there's only one person who could help me meet my goals, and I think you know who I'm talking about." At this, he put on his best begging face. "Come on. The 1988 Summer Olympics? Kelly Lania, USA, gold medallist in Women's swimming?"

Dr. Lania smiled in spite of herself. "What of it?"

"In butterfly stroke, no less," continued Benvolio. "I don't know much about swimming, but I know that fly is the hardest stroke."

"Hardest and fastest."

"Gold medal in women's butterfly, the hardest stroke."

"I'm not sure where you're going with this."

"I think you are."

She sighed. "What do you want me to do? Teach you how to swim?"

Benvolio smiled. "Butterfly incorporates every area of the body, doesn't it? Arms, abs, legs. You have to be toned to do it. I, needless to say, am not toned."

"Your point is?"

"When I can swim a fly race with in the same distance as you did, I'll know I'm ready."

Dr. Lania cocked her head. "Ready for what?"

Benvolio shook his head and changed the subject. "I need you to tell me what to do."

Her resolve was weakening; Benvolio could feel it. "So it's going to be a…a butterfly boot camp?"

"That's the one."

"But I've got patients…"

"You don't need to be on me every minute," he cut in. "I'll whoop my own ass, you know I will. I just need you for a bit every day. Just to keep my on track."

Dr. Lania made one last-ditch attempt at being a responsible doctor. "So you're setting out to do in a month what I did in a lifetime."

Benvolio shook his head. "Not at all. I'm not setting out to win the Olympics. I just want to be able to DO it."

Two seconds went by. Suddenly, Dr. Lania snatched up a note pad and began to scribble on it at a furious rate. Benvolio craned his neck to read it, but it made absolutely no sense to him. _Warm-up: 400 m Fr. PT 16 min. _She continued in this vein until the pad of paper was covered in neat columns. Finally, Dr. Lania tore it off and handed it to Benvolio.

"This is your workout for today"

"Thanks. Thank you so much. But what does it mean?

"I'll get to that later. Your workouts will increase marginally in intensity with every passing day. The rate of increase will depend on how you did during the day. I'll modify it by evaluating you. And boy, I will be evaluating you hard." Benvolio gaped at her; Dr. Lania shrugged. "What? You asked for a coach. So for your pool warm-up, you're doing 400 metres—that's sixteen continuous lengths—of freestyle."

"Any stroke I want, you mean?"

"No, freestyle is the glorified way of saying front crawl."

"But what about butterfly?"

"Boy, there is now way you are even attempting fly until I'm sure you have a perfect stroke."

"So what's PT mean?"

"That's your pace time. It's the amount of time I'm giving you to do the exercise. Anything left over is your rest."

"What if I go over?"

"You get no rest."

"Ah."

* * *

_Well? Review please?_

_Thank you Marah again for the reviews. IT'S ALL FOR YOU!_

_Curlz_


	12. Midnight Mass

_Hi, all._

_I know that it has been a deplorably long time since updates. If you're still with me, I thank you. I'll admit it, I've been procrastinating._

_If you're just tuning in now...well, enjoy yourself._

* * *

"We give thanks for Benvolio and his miraculous recovery," muttered Ted Montague with his forehead balanced on his folded hands. Benvolio rolled his eyes and sank back into the state he had held through the entire grace: a doze. He had risen early this morning. A 5:00 practice was no trouble for Benvolio, but that combined with a family dinner and midnight mass was just too much. Dr. Lania—Kelly, as he now addressed her—had worked him harder than ever.

Since the accident, Ted Montague had reformed his behaviour until he was nearly unrecognizable. He was now mild-mannered and inoffensive, barely ever initiating conversation. Though he often expressed "get well" wishes to Benvolio, never once did he mention the accident or the events leading up to it. This was just as well with Benvolio; the more his family turned their backs on certain truths, the easier it would be for him to sneak out of the country on New Year's Day.

He was worried. Not about the sneaking part: he was sure that it would go off without a hitch. The problem with him was the preparation part. He could do only three lengths of perfect fly, three out of eight. Kelly was firmly adamant that he would not execute any butterfly unless it was perfect, for fear of losing the feel of the perfect stroke. This infuriated Benvolio—now he had only five days to get it right.

On the bright side, this work had paid off. His body had not restored itself to its original football-esque proportions, but he could feel the muscle coming back, longer and leaner than it was before, more like how Romeo's body had been. He wouldn't cancel the ticket if he didn't meet his goal, either. Really, the only misfortune would be the disappointment of not having achieved a goal.

The anticipation of that feeling frightened Benvolio more than anything.

_"Maria, you're awfully quiet tonight," _Maria's mom whispered.

Maria stared at the sea bass on her plate. How could she enjoy Christmas Eve dinner with the family that had caused her so much pain? Maybe she was being unfair; after all, it wasn't as though she had ever intended on going back to America to see the man she had loved and abandoned. But, in an indirect and paranoid way, it was because of her family that he accident had happened.

The past month had been chalked with twisting guilt. Every day, Maria resolved to march up to her father and tell him plainly that he could not keep her; that she would go back to the USA no matter what. But as soon as she saw him, Caroline Montague's reproachful face would swim in front of her eyes, and Alessia's accusatory tone that she had used on the phone rang in her ears. What would their reaction be if she turned up on their doorstep? Maria understood their hostility. In fact she agreed with it. She was, without a doubt, the worst girlfriend in the world.

The days and weeks had gone by like snails. After receiving the phone call, she had spent her days in her room, replaying the message over and over again. Eventually, she emerged, and had busied herself with work around the school ever since: secretarial, janitorial, anywhere she was needed and a good lot of places where she wasn't. The most menial of tasks were what she coveted; repetitive work allowed her to escape. The boys at school had turned from being a cause of awkwardness or self-consciousness to complete non-sexual entities, as much a part of the school as the desks or sharp shooting targets were.

The drug-like sensation of the French fry in Gloria's mouth rocketed to her brain, and she felt herself relax. She and her sister, fed up with family, had resolved to spend their Christmas Eve in the most unorthodox way they could think of. Giving no thought to their arteries or thigh measurement, they had ordered as much McDonald's as they thought they could hold, and rented three porn movies. No turkey, tree, or presents were in sight, and that was just the way Gloria wanted it. Too long, she had obsessed over spangling her house in an attempt to inject some Christmas spirit into the business-hardened heart of her husband. Now, she was using the holidays as a time for self-indulgence; she supposed she deserved it.

The scars on her face were beginning to soften. They were still raised, and she felt pain on them with a light touch. The skin was pink and soft. Often at night, she would run her fingers along the tiny ridges, relishing in the accompanying sting.

Tonight, however, there was no room for guilt. Without looking at her hands, she tipped the vodka bottle over her cup, still half-filled with chocolate shake, until the froth rose to the brim. The next heated scene in the movie was about to start. As Vicky raised the volume, Gloria dipped another fry into her spiked shake and munched on it thoughtfully, turning her focus back onto the screen. It was true; she was acting like an absolute sad sack, and it felt fantastic.

Well, she told herself that it felt fantastic. In reality, there was an empty space buried right in the middle that she was attempting to fill with alcohol, sugar and fat, but the matter around this space just grew denser. She allowed herself one more melancholy thought before she pushed it out of her head and resumed concentration on the movie, allowing her mind to fill with the texture of the leading male's arms, legs, back, buttocks. What she wouldn't have given for a good lay at that moment.

The bed was a disgrace; nothing but a wooden board covered by a slab of foam and a fitted sheet consisting of something like burlap. The coverlet followed the same design. As for the duvet…there was no duvet, no quilt, nothing.. And Fulgencio was freezing.

All day, he had watched an inflated number of inmates get called to the visitor's room, friends and family putting aside their ill feelings to share the Christmas spirit. Fulgencio, just as expected, had had no visitor.

Once again, he reflected on his circumstances with detached amusement. What he had done had seemed awful, horrifying even, to other people. Yet while he was doing it, he had felt no sense of guilt, no twinge of injustice. In the past, he had always scorned sexual predators, yet his mind had made no connection between his crimes and the crimes of others. He had been foolhardy, but never caught.

So, why had he done it? There was no denying that the female staff at the house of Capulet were more attractive than most; all along he had teased them with his words, winks, a well-placed pinch occasionally. As the pressures of business increased, he'd yearned more for them than Gloria's doe-eyed demeanour. The night of Juliet's funeral had been the first time he had wanted to share a bed with them, but they were not willing. The day had been rough, and he had been physically sick at having to shake the hand of Ted Montague. So, he'd done what he did in every difficult situation: he used force.

There was a creaking noise as a metal tray was pushed into the cell, containing two fish dinners. The smell made him wretch. Even his roommate, a cocaine dealer, had visitors. Fulgencio was a lonely, decrepit old felon. On that cheerful note, he rolled over once again in his burlap sack and tried to sleep.

It didn't matter how strong he would get; it didn't matter that his muscles had once again begun to show. Every time he arrived at a threshold, a pair of shoulders would inevitably materialize beneath his arm, and a pair of eyes shining with pity would stare into his. It had been irritating even when he couldn't walk, but now it was all he could do to refrain from bellowing into the poor do-gooder's ear that he was probably stronger than they were, so f--- off. If someone even raised a finger to help Benvolio tonight, he knew that there was no way he could refrain from attacking.

Just now, the stretch SUV limo was gliding down the main drag of Verona Beach. The entire Montague family was packed into it, casting darting glances around the close quarters. Caroline tried not to show that she regretted forcing the family into just one car. The worst part was the absence of one person in the family that was now glaringly obvious.

Benvolio once again caught his head dropping to his chest and wrenched it back up, forcing his eyes wide open. He pinched the back of his hand viciously, determined to keep awake. He wanted nobody to see him as an invalid.

The entire party swayed a little as the limo turned the corner and began to accelerate down the street. Caroline thankfully glanced out the window. "Well, we're almost there," she chirped with relief. The rest of the family looked out the window and sighed happily—except Benvolio. How had he not been on this street in an entire month when he had drag-raced down it every day this past summer? Was this really the last place he had seen Maria?

_As the two cars slid parallel to each other, the two drivers caught a glimpse of each other. It couldn't have lasted more than a second, but it may as well have been forever. Benvolio's throat closed and his eyes bulged out as he locked eyes with a woman he had not seen in months, whose only action towards him has been clawing aggression. A crash, an explosion, a crushing pain that disappeared instantly. A pinpoint of brilliant light appeared at the centre of his vision and exploded outwards, masking a warped image of metallic disarray…_

The breath caught in Benvolio's throat as he remembered, for the first time in a month, the person he had collided with. They were nearing the church now, and the tiniest bump in the road threw Benvolio's heart out of whack. His break caught in his throat repeatedly, and he gulped.

Maria sighed impatiently as she took her seat in the top balcony. The church was ornate, superfluous. It had been built back when then institute was a monastery, but was still used because of the high Catholic population at the school. Now, the amount of worshippers had dwindled down to around ten, the rest of the students having spirited home for the holidays. The organist pounded out the first few notes of the processional hymn, and as the holy men began to pace down the aisle, Maria made a mental calculation. It was midnight now, and he would be six hours behind. So he's…eating dinner?

Maria smiled, even though she knew she was wrong to dwell on him. She had no idea what he looked like now, so she imagined him as robust as he had been the day they met. She imagined him happy; she imagined him filled with thoughts of her; only happy thoughts, of course.

The ceremony was due to begin when Maria's image seemed to blast into a vision, a very real hallucination. She was standing in the Montague dining room, but none of the family members paid her any mind. Benvolio didn't look as strong as she had hoped, but she didn't mind what she saw: he was a little pale, but he ate hungrily and independently, and muscular bumps rose against his knit sweater. She watched as Benvolio stopped eating and whirled around slowly to look at her. She felt goose bumps rising all along her arms as their eyes met.

She could think of only one thing to say, and said it with tears in her voice. "I'm sorry." Even she herself couldn't tell if these were happy tears or not. But his answer shocked her more than anything she could have imagined.

"I know." The two of them stared at each other for a few more seconds. Finally, Benvolio flashed her a chilling smile and turned around to resume his dinner, as though she had never been there.

A priest's droning voice dissolved her fantasy—or hallucination—and she rearranged herself in her seat to be more comfortable. Her parents, sitting on either side of her, glanced at her uneasily. _"What is it?"_

"_Whom are you apologizing to, dear?"_ her mother asked.

Maria sighed. _"Nobody in particular."_

Mrs. Montoya nodded slowly, casting Maria a strange look.

"Benvolio, are you absolutely sure you don't need a doctor?" Benvolio's mother was hanging off his arm, her voice trembling. His little attack had passed quickly, but it had lasted long enough to firmly frighten his family.

"Ma, I am absolutely fine," he said through clenched teeth. _Probably more fine that you._ He didn't feel fine, of course. Nowhere near. But that was only emotional; he was physically fit.

The hush hit them like a wall. The service had started already, and the only pews empty were the Capulet and Montague pews. With Fulgencio's jailing, the Capulets had been in frenzy, relocating their families to their various summer homes as far away from Verona Beach as possible. The worshippers stared, even glared at them as they tiptoed down the aisle. Trying to distract himself, he went through the plan carefully in his head once again. _New Year's Day, New Year's Day…_that was his mantra. _Seven days._

* * *

_The next chapter WILL be coming soon. I promise._

_Curlz_

_Ok, I've decided something. I need to change my nom de plume._


	13. Sleuths

_See? Quick, right?_

* * *

Benvolio couldn't see the school from his hotel room. He had found the closest building and paid for the highest room, but he still couldn't pick it out. That was the first place he had gone to since leaving the airport, but the only thing he had courage enough to do was to sit on a park bench and stare at the front gate. He paid no mind to the armed guards. They couldn't possibly scare him, not after what he'd lived through. He supposed he had been intelligent by using a fake name, but he still felt exposed.

Now, lying restless on his bed, he thought back to what his family, and wondered what they were thinking of him. All through the week between Christmas and New Years, he had tried to drop hints about his imminent departure, but he was sure nobody had picked them up. At 5:00 a.m. on January first, while the party seemed to be running on life support, Benvolio had slipped out of the house to the waiting cab. He had left notes to both his parents and Alessia, containing no information about where he was going and strict orders not to try to interfere, cautioning against another family embarrassment. Retrieving the small suitcase he had stashed under a willow tree at the front of the property, he packed into the cab and rolled away from his life.

* * *

For some reason, today felt special to Maria. Something was going to happen, and soon. She just wasn't sure what. Trying to squelch the feeling, lest it led to disappointment, she threw herself into the school chores, never able to sit still.

After a painful day filled with hope, something interesting finally happened; a sign, she hoped. She was delivering coffee and pastries to the guard's lounge, but dropped the bakery box beside the door. The wisps of conversation she could hear made her stop and listen.

"You never finished telling me about that lurker."

"Oh, yeah, it wasn't anything big. Some guy – American, by the looks of him – was staring at the school from across the street. He must have sat there for hours. He didn't move. It was hilarious."

"Yeah?"

"I even showed him my gun, to see if he was still alive."

"He didn't react?"

"Not a flinch. And then, he just got up and left."

The subject changed, and Maria carried in the food. She had a strange feeling about this… lurker.

* * *

The next day, Benvolio worked up the courage to approach one of the guards at the gate.

"English?"

"Yes" The guard rested one hand on his gun, his eyes narrowed.

Benvolio smirked. "It's fine, I'm not trying to get it." But the hand stayed on the gun, and Benvolio shrugged. "Do you know the headmaster of the school? Montoya, right? Tulio Montoya?" The guard nodded slowly. "What's he like, is he a nice guy?"

The guard's English was practiced and precise. "Mr. Montoya is a firm but fair man."

"But you've met him, right? You've talked to him?"

"I have."

It was driving Benvolio crazy, knowing how close he was to Maria. "Is he ome now?"

The guard's face grew sterner. "I can't tell you that."

"Right. Sorry. Of course. Do you think you could possibly open up the gate or me?"

"Do you have a card?"

"A what?" Benvolio thought for a minute. Then, he fished for his wallet. I know this isn't the card you were talking about…" out slipped an American $100 bill, "But maybe it would work?"

Finally, the guard's demeanour cracked, and he smirked as he gestured above their heads. Benvolio followed his fingers and came face to face with a security camera. He cursed softly, gave a shaky smile to the guard and speed-walked away.

* * *

"Maria, come in here for a bit." Maria had been passing by her father's office holding a clipboard, and walked in gingerly at his command. There was no doubt that the relationship between father and daughter had shifted dramatically. Often, Maria felt more like a disgruntled but fearful employee.

"Yes, father?"

"Maria, there was a man trying to gain entry to the school grounds today." Maria's interest peaked. "He tried to pay his way in, but the guard stopped him. I'm sure it won't be a problem." He grabbed an envelope and slid out a sheet of paper. "The camera got a picture of him. Make sure you know his face, just in case."

For some reason, Maria couldn't look at the paper in front of her dad. Instead, she folded it into quarters, slipped it into her pocket and made her exit. She dropped the clipboard off to the intended person and ran back home, needing to open the paper in the comfort of her own room. The bed rose to meet her, plush and springy, and she waited until it stilled before she pulled out the paper. She took a few deep, preparing breaths, opened it and forced herself to look at it.

It was like a bomb had exploded inside her. She fell back onto her bed and felt the blast through her entire body. She was trembling, ever so slightly, and Benvolio's picture rattled in her hand. Tears ran down into her ears, but she couldn't have said whether she was laughing or crying. Adrenaline rocketed through her body and she began to move, writhing, and then bouncing, then standing and jumping, planting her hands on the ceiling before her downward descent.

Finally, some of her energy worked off, she landed in a sitting position and began to plan. She had to find him. Where would he be staying? In a hotel? Close by or far away? The nearest one she knew of was a Novotel three blocks away. She could start there. How to get out of the grounds? Her father would probably more protective than usual now. She would have to sneak out.

* * *

The Novotel lobby was homey. That was the only way to describe it. The decorations were stereotypically Spanish. A computer screen winked from one corner, and a pair of video game machines was propped against the wall. English-speaking high school students reclined in chairs and the floor, talking and laughing. Maria approached the front desk. She was running on borrowed time, but that wouldn't matter once she had Benvolio in her arms.

"Good evening, Señorita."

"Good evening. I'd like to know if a man by the name of Benvolio Montague is staying in the hotel?"

The concierge's smile faltered for only a second. Then, he typed the name into the computer. Maria waited anxiously as he scanned the list.

"M-O-N-T-A-G-U-E?"

"That's right."

"I'm sorry, he's not checked into this hotel."

Maria's face fell. "OK. Thank-you." She supposed she had been expecting too much. It was too late try the next hotel. As she walked towards the lobby doors, her face crumpled, and she bent her head as she walked, thinking only of the box of chocolates and the bed that waited for her back in her room.

An all-too-solid object halted her path. A couple of shopping bags hit the ground, the canned goods rolling in all directions. From the angle she was looking, Maria could see a pair of well-worn running shoes, dancing to avoid stepping on the goods. "Shit!" yelled a familiar voice, and it was then that Maria looked up, trembling. Their eyes met.

After what seemed like hours, he broke the silence. "Maria."

She smiled. "Hi." She couldn't bring herself to say his name to his face. She felt like she would melt.

Another awkward silence settled before both of them began talking at once.

"I tried to get in…"

"They said you weren't…"

They broke off and laughed uneasily.

This was so wrong. Maria wanted to hug him, to touch every part of his body to make sure it was real, but he looked so… guarded. She didn't want to have to try to make conversation with him.

"They said you weren't registered here."

Benvolio blinked, and then nodded. "I didn't use my real name."

"I see. Smart. What name did you use?"

Benvolio looked like he was about to say it, but he changed his mind. "Would you like to come up?"

Maria nodded politely. "Yes. Yes, I would."

Benvolio grinned. "Ok."

The first few seconds in the elevator were torture. Benvolio was amazed that he hadn't exploded with excitement. For some reason, though, he couldn't touch her. He had to break this silence.

"So…"

"I'm sorry I left." Maria was staring at him earnestly, and he could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes.

"What?"

"Ben – Benvolio – I'm sorry I left. I'm so, so sorry. I just… I was worried…"

Benvolio couldn't stand it. He silenced her with a long, full kiss on the lips.

"I forgive you," he whispered.

By the time the elevator had dinged open on his floor, the two buttons Maria had missed had popped off his shirt. He pressed her up against the door, working on her zipper with one hand and fiddling with the keycard in the other until he could open the door, and they collapsed into the room. He backed her up against the bed, and they fell on top of it. By this time, Benvolio had noticed that salty tears were flavouring their kiss,his and hers.

"Oh, God, Maria, I missed you. I missed you so, so much."

"I missed you too. I hated leaving you."

Ten minutes later, they lay entwined in each other's arms, saying nothing yet communicating everything. Maria dully thought of the time, how her parents must have been going crazy, but she couldn't muster an appropriate emotional response. Then, she remembered that which had seemed so trivial before.

"Benvolio?"

"Mm?"

"What name did you use to check in?"

Benvolio smiled, but squirmed self-consciously. "It's dumb. It's the only thing I could think of at the time."

Maria giggled. "What was it, then?"

Benvolio sighed. "It was… I told them my name was Ben Magli."

Maria shrugged off the awkwardness. "Well, what's in a name? It's not your hand…" She laced her fingers through his, "or your foot…" She playfully massaged his instep with her big toe, "or your arm…" she ran her cheek over the muscle, "or your face…" she kissed his forehead, his two cheeks, his nose, and his lips, "or any other manly part you may have."

Benvolio grinned widely. "Ok." He rolled himself over so he was balancing on top of her and lowered himself until his lips had met hers.

The feeling of ecstasy was wearing off. Maria glanced at Benvolio and could tell that he was thinking the same thing. What do we do now?

* * *

_...But I can't promise how quickley the next update will come._


	14. A Story of Avoided Woe

_Well, this is it. It's been a long time coming. This story is over a year old. It's been months since my last post, and now it's over. 66 pages, 33,261 words on MS Word. I don't know if anyone is still with me, but if you are, thanks._

"_Maria, I've been looking for you. I haven't seen you in a while._"

Maria checked her watch. "_You haven't seen me for half an hour, Mama._"

Mrs. Montoya pursed her lips. "_Where have you been?_"

"_In the gym_."

Mrs. Montoya seemed mostly satisfied. "_Dinner's at 7._"

Maria watched her mother's retreating back, waiting until it had turned the corner before she bolted for her room. If possible, finally seeing Benvolio had only made her want him more, but instead of letting lethargy set in, she became restless. She couldn't sit still; she wanted to be with him. And, she admitted to herself, she had missed the sex.

Twenty-three and a half hours now remained until their next meeting, and she figured that if she wasn't going to do anything productive until then, she might as well go prepared. A rummage produced a pen and paper, and she doodled as she thought.

Benvolio was antsy. It was a full five minutes before the time they had scheduled to meet, and he was already worried that she wouldn't come. The room service food he had ordered was perfectly arranged on the table. Had they not previously agreed that it was within Benvolio's best interests to lay low, he would have been waiting for her outside the gate.

He glanced at the clock again, certain that another five minutes had gone by, but no, only one minute. He was still unbearably disappointed that they could only steal a quarter of an hour together, but that made painfully good sense as well.

Finally, the door clicked as the electronic lock engaged from the other side. Benvolio rose to greet Maria at the door. Today, none of the original awkwardness remained. They immediately caught each other up in hugs, not petting, just feeling the warmth and heartbeat from the other person. They could have gladly rested in this position for the full fifteen minutes, but they grudgingly broke apart.

"I ordered lunch," said Benvolio as he guided her towards the table. Maria sat, grinning hugely. She picked at the food, never taking her eyes off him.

Benvolio was the first to break the silence. "So, Maria, what have you been doing?" However, the question wasn't offhand. His eyes were earnest.

Maria laid down her fork. "Not much. I've been waiting for you, I guess."

"You weren't injured, though?"

"No. Well… I had a broken rib."

_No._ The one thing he had taken comfort in was the assumption that Maria had been unharmed. The old guilt resurfaced and he once again felt awkward. "I'm sorry," he muttered, tragically understating the depth of his remorse.

Maria's eyes widened. _Wrong move._ "No, Benvolio, no, it's fine! I'm fine! Look…" She knelt down next to him and tilted his chin towards her. "It wasn't your fault!" Benvolio still looked insecure. Maria sighed. She pulled his face in for a kiss, one he didn't return very heartily. Casting about for something to break the tension, she pulled out the piece of paper she had doodled on earlier. "Listen, I was thinking earlier today. We should make some sort of plan."

Benvolio took the offered page, looked at it, and began to laugh.

"What is it?" Maria tried to act offended, but was relieved to see him smile.

"You made a Pro and Con list?" Benvolio's laughing subsided as he shook his head incredulously.

"Listen, you, I had to do something to pass the time."

"No, no. It's good. Hang on…"

In Maria's thinking, there were two options. One would be to run away, to escape their family's poisonous methods.

"Like elopement?"

_Awkward._ "Well, I wasn't thinking specifically of that. If I run away I want a partner."

Benvolio held her gaze. "Ok…"

"Well, don't you?"

"I already ran away. Whether I have a partner or not is not up to me."

Maria smiled, and then sighed. "But then we could always just sit."

Benvolio didn't take his eyes off the list. "Didn't think you would say that."

"Well, neither did I." She stood and started pacing, looking at her hands. "The fact is, as much as I hate what my family does, I still love them."

Benvolio shifted uncomfortably. "Mare, I glotta be honest with you, I can't say the same. Two of my best friends got killed because of this petty fight. Killed, Maria. I can't sit."

Maria sat heavily onto the armchair and rested her forehead onto her steepled hands.

"And in all honesty, if I'm not with my family, I want to be with you."

"I… I guess we could always sneak…"

"Screw sneaking!" Benvolio had upturned his chair as he jumped to his feet. "I can't do that! You know I can't!" He knelt, gazing at her, but she refused to look him in the eye. He could see that she was crying. "What is it?"

"Nothing." She sighed. "I'm sorry. It's obviously not nothing. I guess I'm just disappointed in myself."

"Why?"

Maria was whispering. "I thought I was ready to leave, but it doesn't feel right."

"Doesn't it? Maria, I understand you more than your parents can."

"Benvolio, don't kid yourself!" The force of her words blasted Benvolio backward, and Maria stood. "My life was perfectly fine before you took it upon yourself to disillusion me!"

Benvolio was stunned; he had no idea what to say. He stumbled into the bathroom shaking; feeling like his entire world had been upended. He wasn't sure how long he stood leaning on the counter, but when he finally gathered enough courage to walk back into the room, it was empty. Maria had left.

In the end, Benvolio found that he could live without Maria. He obtained a permit to work in England, and was now sharing a dank flat in London with two other guys. It was interesting, being one of a threesome again, but he was left to himself quite a lot. His job in a coffee shop combined with the London club scene kept him busy enough. He and Maria still corresponded through letters, but they hadn't seen or spoken to one another since she had walked out of his hotel room one month ago. The letters were distant, friendly, and formal, but Benvolio practically lived for writing and receiving them.

Maria, too, had escaped from her surroundings, to a degree. Unbeknownst to her parents, she had registered herself for a volunteer teaching placement in Ghana for one month. After a few persuasion tactics that could have been construed as blackmail were needed for them to let her go, but in the end she'd been able to pack and fly with little parental resistance. She was happy, living with a family in this small rural village, teaching English grammar and basic French to the children. She found herself gaining weight from their heavy starch diet, and was surprised to realize that she didn't care. She and the other volunteers met every night and often travelled around the country on the weekends. Secretly, she extended her visa and changed her flight, but she still wasn't sure when she would tell her parents that she was staying for another full month.

She wasn't sure about Benvolio. She liked getting letters from him, and she enjoyed writing hers, but she didn't feel forlorn without him. She barely remembered how deeply she had felt for him.

For a while now, they had been discussing a friendly reunion between them in the letters, but she wasn't sure she wanted it to go farther than friendly. She wasn't sure he wanted it, either. He was a great person, and that couldn't be denied, but the emotional tension between them frightened her.

Really, Benvolio and Maria had turned to each other out of desperation. They had used each other as tools to better their situation: Benvolio had escaped his poisonous family, while Maria had loosened her parent's grip on her. They could be great friends, but every day they both secretly thanked God that they had been torn apart before they became a reprisal of Romeo and Juliet.

Here we end the story; not with sadness,

Not with terror, not with joy and gladness.

Here is a story of avoided woe,

That of Maria and Benvolio.

_Ciao, tutti._

_Curlz_


End file.
